


A Fringe Like Fire 2

by sassyseme



Series: A Fringe Like Fire [2]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Bisexual Characters, Cheeky Humor, Drinking, F/M, Fairly chronological, Family backstory, It's looking like a slow burn, Past Relationship(s), Ridiculous and Serious, funny moments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:41:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 34,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24576994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassyseme/pseuds/sassyseme
Summary: Shepard is more ruthless than ever. Dying might have been easier, but for now, shit-talking with Joker will have to do. The only part she's not ready for is growing feelings for Garrus amongst a crew of oddballs. Can she forgive herself for dying and will he learn to lean on another?| Shakarian | Previous work not needed to read this one, but you might miss some jokes | ;-; hiatus
Relationships: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian, Kaidan Alenko/Female Shepard (Past), Lantar Sidonis/Garrus Vakarian (past)
Series: A Fringe Like Fire [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1776406
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24





	1. Garrus Vakarian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus deals with Shepard’s death in his own way.

###  **Mass Effect 2**

Shepard’s Fate

Garrus gazed over his computer screen, staring into the void. Click. Type. Repeat. For hours. Days. It never ended, not the thoughts, not the clicking or typing, nor the pain.

_How could someone so ruthless, so strong, die like nothing? Spirits, and by a ship blast?_

Emails lurched across the screen, threatening to suffocate him. He knew thinking would get him nowhere. He usually pushed the memories away, but sometimes they resurfaced. Sometimes they trapped him.

_What would I have said? “How are you? Do you want to talk about Kaidan? About Mindoir? Or anything?”_

What if her memories had distracted her, and she died because of it? No, that made no sense. He should’ve stayed on the ship; he could have saved her. Why couldn’t his duty wait until _after_ they eradicated the geth? Why did he leave?

“I need that report in, Vakarian.”

_They don’t know if she’s dead. Is no one looking for her? She’s out there, waiting._

Garrus clicked his mouse, mind blank. He felt like a husk. Sovereign had indoctrinated him and he was dreaming. Shepard was alive, but he was the one that died, drifting in some alternate reality, his body turned to ash save for his heart.

“Vakarian, respond.”

The turian at the desk next to Garrus sighed. “We can’t get through to him when he’s like that, Sir.” A man across the room agreed. Garrus chuckled at nothing, the sound carrying no humor. He’d only known Shepard for two months. What right did he have to feel upset? To cry? Suffering wasn’t like him, not like a good turian.

“Vakarian, dammit!” Pallin shook him.

He straightened his hunched spine, the thoughts ceased, and rotated in the chair slowly to face the higher turian with eyes that were unfocused. Only Pallin's tight claws held him upright, otherwise, he might sink into a puddle of failure.

“Yes, Sir?”

“Don’t _Yes-Sir_ me, you’ve been underperforming since you returned. Has playing hero made you forget how to do your damn job!?” Pallin may have said the words to elicit a reaction from him, but Garrus couldn’t bring himself to grow heated. The hot feeling left him easily in the air-conditioned room. It was never quite silent in the way that the ship wasn't.

“I guess my mind went to space,” he repeated the phrase picked up on the ship. “Though, we are in space.” Human proverbs never made sense. _I shouldn't have gotten close to them._

“Look, you already took a break. Turn in your work and don’t be a problem. Spirits, if your father wasn’t…” Pallin rubbed his brow frustrated as he stormed away. 

Garrus scoffed, turning into his desk. “I’m the problem.” _And not the reapers, the slavers, the galactic criminals out there._

He’d spoken an octave too loud. Pallin pivoted on his talons, dark eyes contrasting his white facial marks. “You got something to say, Vakarian?” What pity there might have been was masked by embarrassment as heads turned.

Garrus sighed. “No, Sir.”

“Good, cause if you don’t like your damn job you can leave it.”

Garrus’s eyes flickered. “Leave?” The thought had never occurred to him. Sure, he had “left” when he flew off on the mission, but permanently? Was that even possible? He wasn’t finished his duty years.

Pallin narrowed his eyes. “No one’s forcing you to be here. Now get back to work—”

“No.” Garrus rose from his desk, eyes widening at the possibility. “You’re right, Sir.” His heartbeat increased as a twisted smile formed on his mandibles. Leaving sounded crazy, but the horrible idea simmered into his heart in so few seconds. If it had been lifeless before, the organ was beating now.

The turian next to Garrus huffed, her voice a low pitch. “He apologizes Sir, I’ll make sure he has that report in.”

Pallin clicked his jaws, grumbling as he turned to leave.

Garrus calculated in his head. He _didn’t_ have to be at C-Sec. Spirits, he’d traveled the damn galaxy with Shepard. That meant he could be anywhere else, he could stop evil with his own talons, not bound by rules.

“Sir—I think I quit.”

For a moment, everyone paused, and the words hung in the air.

The turian, she sighed. “Garrus, sit down.”

“No, I mean it—I quit, Sir.”

Pallin stuttered, his face growing angrier. His eyes had pleaded with Garrus to _help me out_ by simply following the rules and getting back to work before it got worse. He sympathized with the lad because there was no easy way to face such a pathetic death of someone you worked under, _but_ that pity easily warped to anger. There was nothing that could supersede _duty_ , being a turian.

“Are you..." He began in a very pissed off subtone. "Goddamn kidding me? Vakarian? _Vakarian!?”_

Garrus was running down the hall as the voice echoed, not seeing the stunned faces of his coworkers as they warped in the sides of his vision. The only sound he could hear was his own muttering. _I can leave. I don't have to be here. I won't let her die. I won't let her. I won't._ Shepard might have been gone, but the fire in him hadn’t. He could be anything he wanted to be. Having only a few years left of mandatory service meant naught; he couldn’t waste another minute on the Citadel. To live the way she would have wanted for him mattered most.

Garrus laughed back the tears jerking at his eyes, confusing the people he rushed past. His heart beat at a violent pace that made him choke on air as he hailed a cab, saying little to the driver inside, save for catching his wailing breaths. The driver, unstirred by his backseat panic, took him to the financial district and stopped at the bank. 

_Skshh!_ The volus behind the counter breathed into his mask. “Hello, I am Barla Von. What services will you be needing today?”

“I’d like to withdraw from my savings,” Garrus was able to stutter out.

The volus sighed, pestering him for his ID and details before looking over his account. “How much?”

“Everything.”

Barla Von choked underneath his mask. “A-are you sure? The Citadel is relying heavily on banks for repairs. If you could wait a few months—”

Silence took him, glancing around at the surrounding area, then he leaned in and said quietly, “I’m traveling off-world, I don’t know how long.”

Von hummed. “Well, you’ve saved a hefty amount, do you not plan to return?”

Garrus crossed his arms, a gesture to show that the volus should mind its mouth. “I need enough money to vacation, get a couple of _souvenirs."_

Barla Von’s mood didn’t improve. “I would financially advise you keep some saved for your own insurance.” He snorted. “I’m transferring a sum to your omni-tool. Please check that it is sufficient.”

Garrus looked at the amount and nodded. It wasn’t even a quarter of his savings, but it would be enough to get somewhere. He could find work. 

“The rest will remain safe. I understand that you do not have any parties allowed to withdraw. And inter-cluster communication is not activated—” 

“Solana Vakarian,” Garrus interrupted, sliding a small picture across the counter. “If anything happens to me, that’s an authorized party.” Barla Von accepted the information, updating the account. When he looked up, the next person in line stepped forward.

Garrus rushed toward his apartment at a violent pace, focusing on nothing else than the invisible path in front of him. The path shifted when Captain Anderson stood in front of him, nearly forcing him to jump back. “Anderson—Ah, I mean, _Ambassador_.” Politicians never cared to look where they were going.

Anderson studied his omni-tool, distracted in emails and files. Two turian guards stood by his side, ready to bear their weapons. The man held multiple datapads and a brow wrinkle that said he wasn't meant for desk life.

“Ah, Vakarian.” Anderson finally smiled, appearing older than before, with lines across his once-smooth forehead. He was the human ambassador for the council, but his deep voice was the same. Garrus loathed it. Nothing should be the same. “It’s been months since—”

“The funeral.” Empty casket.

“Yes. How are you?” 

Garrus rushed his words, “I’m leaving off-world for a while. I don’t know when I’ll return.” He shouldn't have told that to Anderson. _I should leave without a trace, no one-_ The thoughts blinked away as he struggled to reason with himself. _I didn't say where._

Anderson lowered his datapad, angling his head over Garrus's flitting eyes. “You’re not in trouble, are you?”

Garrus hesitated. It wasn’t illegal to quit his job, but part of him also didn’t remember that part of his contract, so he shook his head ‘no’.

Anderson furrowed his brows. “When do you leave?”

He rubbed his neck as a non-answer.

“You’d tell me if you were in trouble, son? I know Shepard isn’t here”—the words stung Garrus—“but you don’t have to be a stranger.” Anderson stood straight, a hand on one hip.

“I need a change of pace, to see something other than,” Garrus motioned with a sigh, “All of this.”

Anderson nodded, looking over the Citadel. He softened his posture. “I understand. Be careful out there.”

Garrus excused himself then departed to the light rail that led to his apartment. 

~*~

Upon unlocking his door, he growled whiffing in a familiar scent. The automatic door shut behind him and turned red as he walked into the kitchen.

An older turian sat at _his_ table helping himself to _his_ coffee. Garrus hadn’t spoken to him since returning to C-Sec. The same turian reprimanded him for going after Dr. Saleon and told him that his actions of subduing the sick-minded man were against protocol. As if any bastard trafficking organs deserved less than a shot in the clavicle.

Five months had passed.

“Vakarian, _Sir_ ,” Garrus said with a bitter twist of his tongue and passed into his room. He snatched a duffel bag from his chair, loading it with his sniper rifle, several scopes, a change of clothes, and rounds. So many rounds.

“You’re going to war?”

Castis stood in his doorway. Garrus was a carbon copy of the man, equally broad and tall, an inch taller if anyone was counting, and his sister Solana always was. Castis’s blue markings were different; they extended to his forehead and touched his chin. His rank was high in C-Sec, and his voice had less purr and more base, more _command._

“I heard you resigned.”

Garrus didn’t respond. He unstrapped his black uniform and yanked open the closet, staring at his heavy blue armor. It shined clean, though it once met the blood of his enemies, and Shepard's enemies...

“You’re going back there. Whatever you’re going through, deal with it. Pull your ass together and do your damn job.”

Garrus tossed his bag on the bed, his chest burning like acid as he growled, “You have _no_ right to say to me. I did my damn job, and you chewed me out for it!”

Castis narrowed his eyes, breathing out through his nostrils, controlling himself despite the disrespectful tone handed to him. “If you’re leaving anywhere, return to Palaven. Don’t go looking for trouble in the galaxy.” His voice lowered, “Don’t get yourself killed like that spectre.”

Garrus’s mandibles tightened as he whispered in a hiss, _“She wasn’t like Saren.”_ It was the first time he’d ever spoken of Shepard in past-tense. _Wasn’t._ His heart grew unsteady, and he took a step back. The air in the room disappeared. “S-she isn’t.” He couldn't breathe.

“That would have well been you on that ship,” Castis whispered through a tight face. Then he grabbed Garrus by the shoulders, meeting him at eye-level. “I didn’t raise you to live for nothing.” He glared into his eyes, forcing him to see reason but met with only emptiness. “I don’t want to find you dead one day, son.”

Garrus shook his head, staring back at his father but seeing nothing. He parted his jaw to speak, but his mandible quivered over the words, unable to bury the pain as he said with unplanned honesty, “I’m already dead.”

Castis’s words caught in his throat, frozen by the sorrowful scent of his son, the feeling he could do nothing about it. While exhaling a deep breath, he released his grip on Garrus and moved out of the way. No further words were uttered. There was nothing else he _could_ say that wouldn’t fall on dead and deaf ears.

Garrus snapped on his armor and grabbed his bag; he left without a word and his father didn’t stop him. That could be the last time they’d see each other.

~*~

“Need a ticket?”

“What’s leaving soonest?”

The asari at the desk clicked through her screen. “Express to Ilium.”

Garrus transferred over credits, showed a borrowed ID, and received clearance to board the flight. It arrived after ten minutes and he found a window seat with no one next to him. He felt his eyes gloss as the Citadel grew smaller. At first assignment to the station, he'd been excited to prove himself. When he'd solved his first case, Solana had visited and bought him a small cake with _his_ money. 

None of it felt real anymore. In all his training in the military and his time at C-Sec, he’d never felt truly alone the way he did now. He closed his eyes, holding his bag to lean on it. With luck, he’d sleep and forget his time on the Normandy. With fortune, her death was a mistake, and she was alive out there.

By the spirits, let that be true. 

* * *

New Beginning

Omega was a filthy city. The civilians themselves weren’t dirty, not all of them at least, but the very streets were. The attitude was rough and rushed. People didn’t stop to smell the roses like on the Citadel. Ruffians lurked around every corner, transporting illegal goods. A transfer to the asteroid from Ilium didn't need a second thought.

Garrus knew well about the drug trade that occurred on the rock. _Red sand._ C-Sec protocol was to let a case go if criminals left Citadel space, but now such rules couldn’t bind him. He tightened the grip on his bag. There were bad people in such a place, and he would change that. After finding a hotel and securing the few belongings he owned to avoid being robbed, he made his way around the city.

First, he had to find a place to rent. He wandered the markets for a week to no avail. Anyone that was looking for tenants wanted to charge high rent. Or, they’d look over his shiny armor and say, “No mercenaries.” They would dismiss him when he tried to explain that he wasn’t one. 

Garrus sighed, stepping over the bodies of homeless vorcha and batarians. He could feel eyes on him as he walked. Faces could see his gun strapped to his hip and would bare their teeth. Few dared to approach him. He liked that he could intimidate thugs in the city. Though, he didn’t want to intimidate potential landlords. 

Instincts, he felt a cold tingle before he turned a corner and touched a hand over his gun, peeking out into the open street first. 

A human stood with her arms crossed, her face in a scowl. She spoke to a group of men clad in green armor. “I need to find him, come on!” she pleaded. They shared looks and laughed, telling her that a man wasn’t with them.

One merc stepped forward, a greasy smile on his face. “If you stick around, sweet cheeks, I may know something.” She huffed and spun on her heel, storming away. They laughed, elbowing the greasy man and making whistles.

Garrus narrowed his eyes, lowering a finger from his gun. He never could understand human behavior, especially that of men ridiculing the women. Among turians, crestless and children were protected, but still, that wasn’t his battle to fight, not yet. He hoisted his bag over his shoulder, continuing down the street on his pursuit. The men paid him no mind, laughing at each other. Cocky, arrogant to not take note of a fully armed turian, that told him.

“Should we tell her he’s dead or what?”

That phrase made him twitch, even approaching a glass storefront to spy from the corner of his eye.

“No way, information ain’t free—” the greasy merc said, and then he smirked, making a dirty gesture. “But I’d give it as an _exchange_ if ya’ know what I mean.” The other men laughed, some shaking their heads. A different man approached with clear higher authority, telling them their next job was soon, and the group disbursed.

Garrus clicked his jaw. They were rotten, maybe he’d get rid of them... but first, he felt compelled to help the woman. That was an injustice within his immediate power to reconcile. He walked along the store strip until he identified her. She had a chestnut brown bob of hair and sat on a bench, speaking on her phone. Notably, she didn’t flinch when he sat on the other end of the bench. 

“Yeah, I think he left Omega. Goodbye,” she said in a quiet voice, clicking her line off. 

He cleared his throat, glancing in a different direction. “The man you asked for, he’s dead.”

She tensed, not turning her body, whispering, “How do you know?”

“Those mercs said it themselves.”

Rubbing her forehead, she sighed. “That’s another payment I’ll be behind on.”

Garrus couldn’t hold his curiosity. “Are you in trouble?”

“Not yet,” she chuckled. “I was renting to that asshole. I’m done with mercs for good.”

He surveyed the strip with his eyes—it was empty—then rotated his body to her. “I’m looking to rent if you have a room.” She definitely would if the merc she’d rented to was dead, but he didn’t want to be overconfident, and added, “I could pay up front.”

The woman crossed her arms, shifting to him, eyes scrolling over his blue armor with a scrunched face.

“I’m not a merc.”

She glanced over his gun. “Trust me, I _want_ to believe you.”

 _Sigh._ “You’re the fifth person reluctant to offer me a room… why?” Could it be because he was a turian? Though, one turian had rejected him.

“You’re from out of town.” He nodded, confused. “You make it obvious, being all shiny and polished up. People who drift through can leave at any time. And as for mercs, they’re trouble if they die without paying.”

He huffed, acknowledging her logic. Few could take him in his battle armor; he looked like trouble because he _was._ You didn't become a detective at twenty-three without being able to kick ass and then some. Thoughts raced, him wondering if he should’ve worn his black suit or concealed his gun. Was it a mistake to leave his job after all? _No,_ _I couldn’t be there any longer._

“I want two months in advance.”

He gaped. “You mean—”

She nodded. “I’m in a bind, so I’ll take what I can get. Butler won’t like it, but oh well, he'll have to deal,” she said, rising from her seat. 

“Butler?” he asked, feeling relief hit him as he started to follow her through the street. 

“My... husband, he works security, and he won’t bother you since he’s usually out. We live in the south district, it borders kima. It’s a little calmer there.”

Cars zoomed by the highway until she waved a cab and a batarian driver slowed in front of them. Garrus offered to pay and she let him. In the small car, he asked her, “Which district were we in?” He'd bartered for a few maps at tourist spots—odd that anyone would visit Omega for fun—but most were outdated.

“Gozu”—she cocked her head—“you really haven’t been here before?”

He shook his head. There were heaps of reform needed at the Citadel, and for a few months after Saren, the red tape hadn’t bound him so he had no reason to leave. Burying himself in hands-on work was adequate therapy until it wasn't.

“Well, most don’t stay too long if they can help it. Merc groups and Aria run the peace.”

“Aria?”

She sighed. “You’ve got a lot to learn. Come on, now.” He let her exit the vehicle first, making note of her gentle manner of speaking and quick movement.

The batarian driver stopped him as he got out, saying in a raspy voice, “You’d do well to learn whose toes not to step on if you want to survive here. I’d steer clear of those merc groups and Aria.”

Garrus thanked him and then ducked his head out of the car. _That’s exactly whose toes I’ll step on._ He followed the woman until he reached a street with apartments. The roads were cleaner than the district that he had left, and the people he passed looked clean.

“Is this area safer?”

She laughed. “Again, just quieter. I think you can handle yourself, though.”

He clicked in amusement, noticing shady alleys as he followed. She stopped to unlock a door and invited him inside a brownstone. The apartment was moderate-sized with tan walls and floors. Decorations and bookshelves furnished its empty corners. 

"And it's one floor?" he asked.

"Yeah, I know it's not much."

Surveying the large room’s defenses, he nodded. _Good, few windows._

“It’s perfect.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to ME2 of the series! While it's the second work, no need to read in order. I appreciate any comments/ kudos in advance ^^. They really help morale with writing <3 Explicit chapters are marked (E)! 
> 
> Here we go! The ship has left the port!!


	2. (E) Mindoir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard spends time in her home. (Takes place before she wakes).
> 
> Explicit (short) chapter

A Good Dream

“You know,” Kaidan said between kisses to her thigh, “This isn’t the date I expected.” 

Shepard chuckled, patting his cheek in the moonlight. Behind him lay the shore, visible through the patio of the beachfront house. She sat on the edge of the bed, petting his head while he kissed her. Her fingers stroked along his face and down his neck until he flinched. 

She smirked. “What’s wrong with this?”

The sound of the waves was soft.

“Gosh”—he pressed his face between her thighs, voice muffled—“Other than that I feel so vulnerable?” 

He knelt on the floor, arms tied behind his back with a ribbon, and a second ribbon tied at the base of his shaft.

“But you’re okay?” she asked, pushing two fingers against his forehead. 

His face lifted, cheeks reddening as he nodded to her. She then grinned, allowing his head to fall, and moved back onto the bed while he crawled forward, awkward without the use of his arms. 

“I was hoping to talk.”

“You always want to talk.”

“Because I enjoy talking with you,” he murmured through a pout. His face leaned into her hip, nudging the area under her belly button with his forehead. “For example, tell me about this scar.” 

Her fingers pulled his ears, and he winced, pouting, then she rubbed his temples to soothe him. _Give a man a good lay, and he’ll start wanting pillow talk._ She rolled her eyes.

He spoke again, “I want to know more about you, that’s what a _date_ is.”

Listening to the tide outside the window, her voice was quiet, “I got into a fight once, back on Torfan, that’s how I got the scar.” 

She didn’t meet his look, staring at the ceiling. A sigh escaped her as his lips traced the thin, white scar, planting kisses over it. He said nothing else, seemingly satisfied with the answer, and continued his kisses until her hand slid over his mouth. It brushed his cheek and then touched her lace panties. No more talking.

Grinning to himself, he tugged at her panties with his teeth, sliding the pair enough to reveal her tuft of hair.

“How do you do this, these cute shapes?” He ogled over the groomed diamond.

She lifted a leg and removed the lace, tossing it off the bed with her foot. “With lots of precision.”

He bit his lip and smiled. “I like it.”

“Do you remember what _I_ like?” 

“Of course,” he grinned, and leaned into the wet warmth between her thighs. He kissed over the tuft of hair and looked up to smile, but she rubbed a hand through his hair and pushed his face back down.

A chuckle escaped him and his tongue traced tenderly over her, swirling in circles, feeling her swell. She sighed under him for minutes, body twitching as he sucked upon her, creating a tight suction with his lips and tongue. Pleasure washed over and she struggled to contain her voice, pulling his hair when she was close.

He stopped, licking his lips, and tilted his head up. The look on his face asked if she was satisfied, almost begging for praise. She met him with a gentle stroke of his cheek. “Come here.” 

She supported his shoulders forward until he inched his body to a crouched position on his thighs. Her cheeks were flushed as she reached her arm around him, tickling his skin and releasing the ribbon. 

“That’s better,” he sighed, stretching his arms. He then laid his stomach between her thighs as she moved back to her pillow, assuming her former position. His eyes lingered over her lips before he planted a kiss, then paused, eyebrows diving. 

“Does it still hurt?” 

She looked confused.

“The scar.”

“Not anymore,” she said and placed her arms around his shoulders. The beating in her heart was anticipation.

“Um—” he chewed his bottom lip, glancing down. “Can I take this off?”

Her eyes followed his, and-she laughed, eyeing the ribbon tied in a bow at his shaft. _“Yes,_ Kaidan, you can take it off.” He seemed relieved and carefully unwrapped the silk, shivering as it stroked his skin. Then he placed himself at her entrance and asked permission with his eyes.

She nodded, huffing as he stretched her and entered fully. Skin on skin was soft as she hugged his shoulders and he thrust at a slow rhythm, her watching him bite both lips.

“Shepard,” he sighed out, burying his arms under her pillow to push her thighs open wider. She leaned her head back, toes curling at the deeper angle, peering at his face through half-closed eyes. Part of her felt that he might disappear if she took her eyes off him.

He gazed down with his jaw parted, making her skin tingle.

~*~

Kaidan sighed, laying on his side, one arm propped behind his head. 

She lay on her back, hands folded over her stomach, counting the seconds before the tide reached the shore. His gaze was upon her, longingly, as it always was. And his free hand traced her stomach.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

Her tongue licked her lips, and she rolled on her side to face him, tucking her hands under one cheek.

“I think it’s peaceful here.”

His smile reached his ears. “Because it’s your home.” A hand slithered over her waist, pulling her closer to him, her elbows touching his chest. “But why Mindoir?”

“It’s my safe place.” And it was. 

He hummed and rested his chin in her hair. “Do you feel safe with me?” Her eyes traced his collarbones. The silence allowed them to take in his deep breaths, aligning with the ocean waves.

“I feel safe.” She then whispered, eyes tight, “If you’re safe.”

His hold on her loosened, eyes assuming a down-turned shape, the way they did when he was sad. And he shook his head, exhaling a deep breath. “Nowhere is safe, Shepard, not even here.”

She searched him for an explanation but found nothing. The words escaped her roughly, nearly catching in her throat, “I _know_ that.” The view outside her window was peaceful, the moon glistened over the island paradise that once was Mindoir, but it easily could have shown over the wreckage of the colony burned. Her home that no longer existed.

He frowned. “We need to talk about Virmire.”

“No, Kaidan, we don’t.

“It happened.”

She shoved her hands against his chest, but he didn’t budge, his eyes glossing as he grabbed her shoulders and whispered, “I’d give anything to be here right now.”

“Enough, LT.”

“But I’m not,” his voice cracked as he smiled painfully. Their eyes met, and she clenched her teeth so hard they could break. Drops of liquids touched his cheeks as his smile stretched across his eyes.

Her voice was quiet. “I said _enough.”_

“This doesn’t exist anymore.” 

She shook under his hold, clenching her fists. “You wouldn’t know that.”

“I know what you know,” he released his hold on her to wipe his eyes, smiling through the tears. “And we both know this isn’t over.” 

“I’ve done all that I could!”

“Jean”—he clasped her face with both hands, stilling her words. He closed his eyes and stroked her face. “You have to wake up.” 

She blinked, and he smiled. 

“Wake up.” 

Her eyes grew heavy, matching his solemn expression. Fight as she tried, the exhaustion took her. 

“Wake up.” 

All was quiet, and the waves stilled. 

**“Wake up, Shepard.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loved writing this chapter. I like to think that in her time gone, Shepard was at some kind of peace.


	3. Wake Up, Shepard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I thought I died. Who the hell are you?

A Bad Dream

Shepard gasped, opening her eyes.

_Send a distress beacon. Liara, get the hell out of here! Where’s Joker? Another attack. Find him. Drag him. Yellow heat flashing. Press the button. Save Joker. Attack. Oxygen reserves depleting. Can’t breathe. Dark. Everything dark. Freezing._

The prior night felt like a bad dream. Normandy SR-1 was under attack, and Shepard had died, but she could feel her skin crawling, heart beating, and chest heaving. Everything was silent save for red and white flashing lights.

 **“Wake up, Shepard!”** the voice shouted again, muffled at first as if her ears were a clock ticking again, and then clear over a loud siren. **“We’re under _attack,_ Shepard!”**

Shepard’s battle senses flared and she lifted her body with all of her strength until she sat up, eyes darting wildly around the room. _Where the hell._ A medical bay. Rolling over, she tumbled off the table, weight heavy on her ankles as she dragged her body to a desk with a pistol. _No clips._

 **"There's a weapons' closet to your left!"** She groaned, forcing herself to stand again, lighter this time as her muscles worked. Blinking away drowsiness, she loaded the gun, watching a door open to a hallway.

From looking around, she was on a ship. “Joker, Status.” He didn’t respond. She held the gun close, ambling along the hallway. _Where am I? Was I drugged? What happened?_

 **“Shepard, you’ve been asleep for two years.”** She paused. The voice wasn’t in her head? _Snap out of it!_ She slapped herself hard, taking in the situation from the sting. _Come on, soldier! Deep breath. Think. None of this is right._

 **“I can guide you, but you have to fight!”** There was definitely a woman—not herself—another woman over the comm.

“Ah-alright,” she croaked out, feeling like she hadn’t used her voice in... years. She froze, playing the words in her ears, shouting out in a hoarse voice, “Did you say two years!?” 

Mechanical droids approached, halting her horror. Duck for cover. Enemy units. Shoot them. **“I’m under fire here, Shepard, I don’t have time—”**

Shepard rubbed her head, breathing hard, looking around for— _protection._ A closet. Combat uniforms. Her hands were shaky as though she was still asleep. The logo at the shoulder made her body turn to ice. _Cerberus._ She snapped her last gauntlet, feeling anger rise in place of fear. What in the hell did a radical human group want with her? 

_Where is my squad?_ The hallway spun around her as she hyperventilated, struggling to find answers. 

~*~

“Well? What the hell do you want?” Shepard hissed. 

The soldier she found, a man darker than she, crouched next to her. His name was Jacob, as far as she knew. That could've been a lie. Nothing could be trusted on a Cerberus vessel.

Jacob raised his hands and said calmly, "I work with Cerberus, they were working to reconstruct you. Things must be bad if you're walking around, we're"—he hit a droid with a biotic push—"kind of under attack right now." 

"That much I can see." She narrowed, remembering the scars on her face and her body in the reflection of the closet mirror. “But why?” And what of the woman that spoke to her? Miranda?

"I know it's hard to trust me now", he muttered, shooting at a droid then sighing, "but we have to get somewhere safe."

Biting her lip, she nodded slowly. They took out the remaining droids before she followed him for minutes through the ship, surmising that he wasn't trying to kill her. Her trust waivered when they rendezvoused at the cargo bay with some man she didn't recognize. His demeanor was rushed, _nervous,_ too nervous for someone who had just found help.

"I need some answers before we continue," Shepard said through narrowed eyes, crossing her arms where she stood.

Jacob nodded, holstering his gun. "That's fair. We won't get far until you trust us. I'll answer what I can."

"Trust!?" Wilson—the man—shouted. "We don’t have time for this, we have to get out of here! We're in danger!!"

Shepard narrowed her eyes at him. _How the hell do you know how much danger we're in?_

With a click of her tongue, she raised her gun as Jacob shouted, “What the hell, Shepard!? He’s our ally!” The bullet landed and Wilson fell to the ground, leaving Jacob gaping in horror as the shuttle door in front of his limp body opened.

“He betrayed us.” A brunette in a white suit emerged, the uniform hugging her body gratuitously. “She made a good call.” More alarming, her voice was the same as the intercom. _Miranda._ "Not many have such good instincts."

Jacob composed his shock, crouched over Wilson, and then he rose with an angry face. “H-how? Explain.”

“It was obvious, his story didn’t add up.” Shepard cocked her gun at Miranda. “And neither does yours.”

Did she smile, looking at Shepard with almost— _pride?_ “I’ll gladly explain all you’d like to know. The illusive man will want to speak with you.” Miranda motioned for them, unaffected by the threat. 

Shepard hesitated, eyes shifting between the two, and then she followed, gun lowered with a finger kept on the trigger. Even if they were a part of a terrorist group like Cerberus, she had a better chance of survival with strangers than on an empty ship. Where the hell was Joker when she needed him?

They boarded the shuttle and Shepard settled into the seat, tense as she tried to wrap her mind around... waking up. Two years was too long to be sleeping, or being _rebuilt._ “Technically, it was two years _and twelve days,”_ Jacob said when she didn't goddamn ask. The two of them couldn’t see it under her cold exterior, but she was shaking.

* * *

Emptiness

Inside a glowing blue circle, Shepard watched the surrounding room change to virtual reality. An older fair-skinned man sat in front of a large planet, smoking with one leg crossed. He was the Illusive Man, the one with information.

She knew that Jacob and Miranda were buttering her up by giving her a new outfit and customized gear like she used to wear. Red lining with grey blotches. And it worked. Seeing familiar colors helped her mood, but it didn't feel right. Her short strawberry curls were now a low buzz cut that proved nothing was the same. And her face... those orange lines. Spur of moment, she decided on a dark lavender tint instead of black, and raspberry blotches with dark red lining. 

"Commander Shepard," The Illusive Man acknowledged.

“This the best view I can get, TIM? Not face-to-face?” she asked, glowering at him with crossed arms.

TIM, unaffected by the nickname, blew smoke and lowered his cigar. “A necessary precaution for people like us.”

 _Like us?_ Scoff. “I don’t trust you, even if your Laza-whatever project costed a fortune to bring me back.” She shifted uncomfortably, feeling the ticking of gears if she focused hard enough. 

“It’s nothing personal. Humanity is facing a great threat, and I needed you exactly as you were before the-”

“Reapers,” she hissed the name. Sovereign had corrupted many and taken lives, including Saren, and together, they took Kaidan. Even if Saren died, it took the destruction of the Citadel to stop just one of the reaper bastards. And she knew from the visions that they were still out there... waiting to return. 

“Good, your memory is intact. How are you feeling?” He gestured.

“Skip the pleasantries, what's going on with the reapers?”

His lips creased as if to smile, satisfied that her personality was the same. Then he explained that Cerberus was not the enemy. In fact, he was on _her_ side and wished to stop the threat to humanity.

All bullshit. “No chaser, old man,” she growled, “If I _died_ , why am I _back?”_

TIM lowered his lids then rose from his chair, tone suddenly serious. “Entire human colonies have been disappearing as you _slept.”_ The words make her shift, eyes opening wide. _Whole_ colonies? He answered her look, “Someone is working for the Reapers just like Saren was. Thousands of innocents are missing.”

 _Th-thousands..._ Shepard lowered her shoulders, swallowing a lump in her throat to ask, “T-the council?” _If they're still around, they can-_

TIM folded his arms. “It’s not _aliens_ disappearing.”

_That's right... they wouldn't._

“So they’re doing nothing,” she whispered through gritted teeth, staring at the ground. Such news was the only information she trusted from experience. It took the duration of her entire mission for the council to even _consider_ helping in the battle against Sovereign. Why shouldn’t they still be sitting on their asses two years later? _Shouldn't have saved those ungrateful fuckers._

She rubbed her neck and shifted stance, exhaling to expel frustration. “What does this have to do with Cerberus?”

He smiled. “We’re committed to the advancement of humanity—”

“At any cost, right? I _said_ don't bullshit me.” She narrowed her eyes. Cerberus scandals were common knowledge at her military rank.

TIM spoke over her, “I don’t know why the reapers are targeting humanity, but we are alone in this battle. You’ve stood for humanity when it matters most, and you have _killed_ a reaper before.”

 _So that's why I'm alive?_ Looking at the ground, she gave a heavy sigh. Her classified knowledge wasn't something you could get from a dead woman. _I'm in God-knows-where space on a Cerberus vessel but..._

"If the reapers are behind this"—she tightened her fists as he began to smile—"I’ll _help_ you. I won’t work _for_ you.” 

TIM walked back to his seat, sitting to drink from a scotch glass with a lighter mood. “Fair enough. Shuttle to Freedom’s Progress. The entire colony was recently abducted. Go see for yourself.” 

"Fine, that's payment enough for my life," she muttered, absorbing his words with crossed arms. “But I had a good team before. Can I trust Miranda or Jacob?”

His chuckle surprised her. “They work for you now. As for the whereabouts of your team, check your personal database. We weren't able to find all of them, and a few cannot be trusted.”

Her brow twitched. "Like who?"

"Liara T'Soni, the asari archaeologist. Sources say she is working for the Shadow Broker."

 _The shadow what?_ She scrunched her face, struggling to decipher the information. "And Garrus... Vakarian?"

TIM lowered his drink. "The turian disappeared months after you died."

 _Disappeared? Garrus?_ Shepard's face fell, absorbing the urgency of the mission through gritted her teeth in addition to the isolation without her team. _An entire colony? Not one survivor?_ It didn't make sense.

“Head to Freedom’s progress and investigate the attack. If it’s nothing, you’re free to go.”

As her head rose, she took in the planet behind him with defeated eyes. “Alright.”

* * *

Familiar Face

“Commander—” Joker squirmed as she rushed him in a hug. “Hey, watch it! Fragile man here.”

Shepard released him, remembering his bone condition, but still placed her hands over his face to be sure it was the same. His skin was warm, meaning he was alive. The fear she felt after seeing the empty colony disappeared. “I can’t believe it’s _you,_ Joker.” 

“Look who’s talking.” He smiled, adjusting his cap as she let him go, then walking up the stairs.

She composed herself and followed alongside him. "What are you doing here, on a Cerberus vessel?

“Well... I work for Cerberus..." he said awkwardly. "We were heroes one minute, and it was all covered up the next. The council grounded me. I couldn’t do the job I’m damned best at, so I joined this group. And they saved you. That’s a long story made short.”

Checking that she was out of earshot of any employees, she stopped walking and cast him a serious look. “Do you _trust_ Cerberus?”

Joker shook his head then smirked. “I don’t _trust_ anyone, Commander, I learned from the best. What was that thing you used to say?" She smirked, crossing her arms as he repeated with her words, "The only thing I trust is that-"

"Alcohol will get me drunk," she finished with a sigh. That certainly was the truth.

“Though”—he uncrossed his arms, motioning for her to look out the window—“I _can_ trust that this is the best ship in the galaxy right now.”

Her jaw dropped, taking in the huge vessel through the tinted glass with a pounding heart. It duplicated the Normandy’s design butthe ship was larger, darker, and _shinier_.

“And it’s all ours... plus some crew, but you get the gist.”

“Shit," she said through a smile, "We'll have to name her.” 

~*~

Shepard sat in the large room that was her quarters. A giant fish-tank lined the walls. There was a double-bed and a couch. And now she had her own bathroom and office desk. What would she do with so much space? It didn't feel right. Twiddling a desk weight in her hands, she leaned over her private terminal.

“It makes no sense, Joker. They order me around just to make me Captain?”

**“Who else could lead a charge on the Reapers, Shep. Or is it the Collectors now? I can’t keep up. But I know you can do it… again... since I kind of killed you.”**

“Joker.” She sighed. “For the third time, you didn’t _kill_ me.” _A reaper attack did,_ she shivered over the thought. 

He sighed in return. **“Yeah, but I didn’t keep you alive by refusing to board the escape pod. I was an idiot, and you paid the price for it. I don’t know if I can forgive myself.”**

“Well, I know nothing at all since it’s really been two years,” she lowered her voice then shook her head, tone sad, “Tali didn’t recognize me."

 **“It was probably the haircut.”** He coughed, holding back his laugh. 

“Yeah, I bet.” Her eyes rolled. “I feel like I was just sleeping, like a coma. No, like a nap. I took a _nap_ and now everything’s fucked. Those reaper bastards are back and no one's listening.”

**“I’m just glad you’re alive, Shep.”**

Shepard nodded. “You too, Joker.”

**“I have to fill you in on all the vids you missed.”**

She smiled. “Damn, can't wait. Maybe later, though, I’m going to rest.”

**“Night. We’ll be at Omega in a quarter day.”**

The private call closed, both of them being wary that the ship’s AI—EDI—would spy otherwise. She couldn’t leave any channels open on a Cerberus vessel. It looked similar to the old Normandy, but it was different, it wasn't quite home.

Since boarding, Shepard hadn't stopped to talk to any of the crew—only immediately retreated to her quarters. It felt like being the new captain of the Normandy all over again and filled her with similar anxiety. All those faces and names.

The Illusive man turned out to be correct—as she suspected—about the abduction on Freedom’s Progress. There were no humans found in the colony, only a flotilla team sent to investigate. While reuniting with Tali should have made things better, the time passed became clear. The quarian looked at her as a ghost through her mask. 

Shepard crossed the room to lay face-down on her bed, feeling her chest ache. Who could blame Tali for not wanting to join her? Even she didn’t recognize herself. Glowing thin scars that webbed across her face made her look more like a husk than the former commander.

Cerberus had trapped her in a new body and on a new ship. Normandy SR-2 was bigger, more powerful, and emptier. She hugged the pillow and shut her glossy eyes tight. _No crying, this is what you signed up for._

***


	4. Missile to the Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard must freelance to find Archangel.

Garrus’s Father

Castis Vakarian sat at his desk late in his home on Palaven. He felt tired from watching Citadel news since his retirement but wished to be kept up to date on current affairs. In a year and a half, there was no contact from Garrus. Castis even asked contacts at C-Sec to keep an eye out just in case… in case a body turned up. The best scenario would be that Garrus return to his job.

Castis tightened his talons on his chair when a report of a turian killed on Ilium flashed across the screen. Then he sighed in relief; it was an old prosecutor. Spirits, when had he become a man relieved at a stranger’s death? He shook his head in disbelief, composing himself once he heard steps at the doorway.

“Daddy, are you hungry?” Solana approached and smiled, her bright blue markings shining across her cheeks.

Solana had heard little from her brother as well. It saddened her. A year ago, he had called to ask how she was. In the time between, she’d received cryptic messages hoping for her well-being or reciting lines from his favorite movies. Father always wanted to see the messages, but they weren’t traceable. It was her only proof that he was alive. 

Now months had passed since Garrus had spoken to her. And for Castis, the time was longer.

“Just coffee is fine.” When he turned to look at her, she smiled again, but he didn’t smile back. “I’m just glad your mother had a good day...” She knew his thoughts were with Garrus, so Solana departed, leaving him in his office.

Castis sighed, finally closing his extranet. There’d be no point staying up all night watching the news. He opted to turn his comm line off when a call beeped. He narrowed his eyes. Untraceable. 

_Would it be?_ Hell, it was more likely to be spam than his son, but Castis clicked the line.

“Hello?”

“Hey…”

His eyes widened, emotion overcoming him. Anger, first. His voice caught in his throat and he buried the feeling then whispered out, “Where are you?” 

There was a cough, a gunshot, then a sigh. 

“Just at target practice,” Garrus said under his breath.

“We can talk later.”

 _“No, Dad,”_ Garrus snapped, his voice lowering as he said, “There’s a lot… of targets.”

Garrus hadn’t called him Dad in years. He tightened his grip on the desk. There were faint shouts in the background and more bullets. Garrus sighed when the noise died down, the sound of a weapon lowering, a rifle?

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry… I was out of line last time.”

“I’m retired,” Castis said, unsure what else to say.

Garrus chuckled. “That much I know.”

The sound of his son’s laugh was oddly unfamiliar to him, even in the days they’d worked in the same department. The crow contradicted the stressed tone in his voice. _Are you safe? Why call now?_ He didn’t ask. Part of him knew he wouldn’t like the answer _if_ he received one.

Garrus’s sigh entered the line, further shots gone. “I shouldn’t have gotten angry with you.”

Castis tightened. “Son, it’s in the past now. These targets—”

Garrus’s voice strained. “It’s not, it’s—” he sighed. “You were right about a lot. I just _—huff._ Right, the targets, you know, they’re moving ones.”

The two were silent for a moment. Castis absorbed his jumble of words. He felt compelled to keep Garrus talking as the blasts grew louder, feeling his own heart beat faster. “How are your thermal clips?”

“Could use more.”

Castis gripped his desk. “Keep pulling the trigger. Even if things are hard, even if they feel impossible, click the trigger.” There was violent silence. “Garrus?”

“I’ve got it.”

“It’s not over until your last bullet, son. Finish your job and then return. Finish up,” he breathed, “And then come home, to Palaven.” He closed his eyes. “We can sort it all out then. When you come home. Son?”

“Yeah, see you then, Dad.”

The line clicked.

Castis stared at his desk in silence, talons releasing from the sides, leaving marks.

“Daddy?” 

He didn’t turn. 

Solana walked to him, placing a mug on the table. “I thought I heard Garrus—” Castis took the glass. He had a look on his face she had never seen before and a scent that sunk the very air out of her chest, making her hands shake as she placed him behind her back. “W-what did he say?”

“Just that he’ll be home soon.”

“Okay, that's great..” She smiled, feeling her eyes well up with tears as she left.

_Garrus._

* * *

Normandy

"I can't take it, Joker, I can't _fucking_ take it."

"Uh, Commander, we just got here."

"No, not Omega." She waved a hand over the dashboard, behind it revealing the grim city attached to an asteroid. "The _team."_

Joker lifted a tumbler and drank a chocolate drink through the straw, humming as he turned to her pacing figure. "Mm, I mean, they're not _so_ bad. The crew isn't nosy like Alliance types. Though, Jacob is a little too nice for a guy that could kill me in my sleep." 

Shepard sighed, slowing her pace to lean a hand against his chair. "I just asked him if the tech lab was fine and the first thing he says is that I can trust him, as if that's _not_ weird. I didn't think that corsair shit would be an issue."

He chuckled, sipping again. "Imagine it being your literal job to kiss ass."

"And Miranda, she stares at me like I'm her fucking pet project, and then goes all cold-bitch if something isn't"—she raised air quote fingers—"Cerberus procedure."

"I mean," he paused, "you kind of were her project. And for the record, I value my life too much to talk shit about her... for now. Maybe I'll change my mind after the suicide mission."

"Yeah, sustained," she muttered, squeezing the leather seat with her fingers. "They're all a cakewalk compared to the yeoman."

Now he laughed out loud. "Why? Chambers seems like the only normal person on this deck"—he glanced behind them to the bridge with a whisper—"no offense all other Cerberus robots." The crew continued work at their stations, focus unbroken.

Joker shivered. _B_ _ots._

"That's the problem," she said with a roll her eyes, pushing out of her lean. "Being that cute should be illegal. Do I want to stroke her hair or let her choke me? Is she even capable of that, or is the nice girl act _not_ an act?"

"That-" he swallowed for a moment. "Is scary in _so_ many ways."

"Anyways, let's get the show on the road. We've got to go pick up this Archangel guy and, uh-" she opened her omni-tool, checking over her assignments app.

"Mordin Solus, Zaeed Massani," Miranda answered, entering the bridge walkway, earning a shiver from her. The XO looked the same as yesterday, not a hair out of place, uniform pressed and clean. "Are you ready to depart, Commander?"

Jacob smiled, nodding his head when Shepard squinted over them. _Definitely too nice._ Then she affirmed Miranda. _And too bitchy._

"Let's go pick up these assholes."

~*~

Shepard wrinkled her nose at the dirty city. She had never ventured to Omega in the Alliance, and now she was glad for that. The city was thuggish and dim-lit. Everyone in it looked crooked, save for a few youths. She despised that an untrustworthy creep like TIM, was right. A specialized crew _would_ be needed to battle against the Reapers. There was no time for shock.

“I always feel like I need a shower when I’m here.” Miranda turned her nose over the city.

Shepard agreed with her, looking to the left and right. Only the giant word _Afterlife_ stood out in the shady commons. And some woman—Aria—supposedly the leader of the degenerate port was expecting her. “Can’t believe she's goddamn threatening me one minute in.”

Miranda lowered her lids. “Kill her later, if you wish, Commander. For now, she may have valuable information on the whereabouts of the dossiers.”

Shepard nodded but grumbled. 

“At least we don’t have to wait,” Jacob commented, unheard.

Club Afterlife had a long line of people eager to get in. They groaned and quipped when Shepard passed, let through by security. She did enjoy the feeling of being exclusive and chuckled until her eyes glazed over a group of batarians leaned against the left wall. One stood and hissed, “What are you looking at?”

It surprised Jacob when the commander grabbed the alien by the neck and pulled his face close to hers, hissing back, “A dead man if he doesn’t get the hell out of my sight.” The batarian stuttered when she released him, stumbling to the floor. His companions pulled him to his feet and they rushed out the way they came while she holstered her pistol.

Jacob looked at Miranda for solidarity in disbelief but found himself disappointed when the brunette had a smirk on her face. “I see you live up to your reputation, Commander.” 

He tensed, knowing well that ruthless reputation from files _._ Would they really be okay for the mission if she was close to shooting any thug that barked at her? It made his stomach ache.

~*~

Aria T’Loak was a confident woman. She spoke with a demanding tone as though she assumed one would agree with her. No, she _dared_ them to disagree. Her existence was necessary for Omega. Who would cross her? Despite the dark city, _Afterlife_ was vibrant and well-armed, and she controlled it all, from the strippers dancing on poles to the hired guards at each corner.

Aria reminded Shepard that despite all asari being blue, their personalities and appearances varied. The kind, gentle disposition of Liara had spoiled her so much that dealing with Aria felt like punishment. Shepard sat on a long VIP couch with her, one leg crossed casually as dance music blasted in her ears. She didn’t have to dig for information on Archangel or Mordin Solus, Aria was generous with showing just how _smart_ and _informed_ she was. 

“What do you want in return?” Shepard managed to ask between self-praises.

Aria smirked. “You get to the chase, dead spectre.”

She crossed her arms, listening to the asari’s roundabout way of speaking then digested the information on Archangel. It was bad. Whoever he was, he had pissed off major people in Omega, dangerous ones, the kind who hold grudges tighter than guns. And it made Shepard a little jealous that this masked vigilante would see such action while she was... wherever the dead go.

Hell, she even didn’t know the guy, but now she had to save his ass? Shepard chuckled as they left the club, leaving Jacob confused. “They’re recruiting for freelancers in the fight against him,” Aria’s words echoed. 

“That’s our ticket in.” Jacob motioned to a batarian in a Blue Suns uniform. 

Shepard approached the merc before a dirty man stopped in front of her, forcing her to tilt her head up. His face was aged and one of his eyes was light grey while the other was blue. And- _sniff-_ what was that smell?

“Need something?” she glowered.

He appeared unaffected by her tone. “Hear’ we have a galaxy t’save.” The husky accent was that of Earth's London, yet still _rough_ like a merc. She squinted. _Who in the hell-_

“Commander,” Miranda cut in before Shepard's hand twitched over her gun, “That is the mercenary dossier.”

She suddenly recognized his dirty armor from when they entered Omega, relaxing her brows. There was a man kicking the crap out of a batarian, and she didn’t want to get involved, figuring the poor bastard had a price on his head.

“Hm.” Shepard crossed her arms, assuming a straight posture. “Zaeed Massani. Didn’t think we’d find you so soon. I’m not here to brief you.”

He crossed his arms in return, scowling. “I’ve done m’ homework, _oh-great_ commander. And I’ll be locked ‘n loaded next time you need some killing don’.”

Her brow twitched, glancing at the Blue Sun who stood feet away speaking to another batarian, then she fastened her eyes on Zaeed. “How about now, _oh-cocky_ bastard?”

His crooked grin spread and he relaxed his stance, newfound eagerness in his sneer.

“Miranda.”

“Yes, Commander?”

“I want to see Zaeed’s skills firsthand. I’ll need you later.”

“Gladly, Commander.” Miranda pivoted and sashayed with a pep in her step, keen to leave the grimy city and take a shower.

Zaeed scoffed when she was out of earshot. “We fighting wit’ barbies?”

“Shut up, if you can.” Shepard turned on her heel. “We’ve got mercs to fight.”

* * *

Archangel

“You freelancers?”

Shepard nodded, and a batarian named Salkie agreed to transport them to the location where they would “fight” Archangel deep in a different district of the city. On the ride, Shepard took in Omega through the dirty windows of the car. Not all civilians in the city seemed to be thugs, but poverty overran the streets. There were no children outside.

Jacob huffed. The batarian—who seemed unfriendly otherwise—talked nonstop in the cab. When they had gotten out, he was still talking about the city, and now the mission. “This is Kima district. Archangel’s holed up in a building over there. Your job is to get across the bridge and keep him busy, but I know little else.”

 _Yeah right._ Jacob rolled his eyes. It was bad enough that he had to sit next to Zaeed who was covered in filth. The old merc had a nasty look to him and a pungent smell that couldn't be pinpointed. 

Shepard nodded to Salkie and they ascended steps to explore the mercenary base. The influx of different recruits allowed ease of infiltration.

“Gather information,” she said in a low voice. Jacob and Zaeed nodded, drifting towards different directions while she took it upon herself to look around two rooms in the base. _Well hello there._ A smirk spread across her face, hacking a safe and armored mech with the skills Garrus had once taught her.

_“No, no, Shepard, align these wires.”_

_“This is fucking impossible.”_

_Garrus laughed. “Come on, I’m teaching you the easiest decryption! You could turn a mech against its allies. You'll be as badass as me.”_

_“Ugh, fine, ya' prehistoric-”_

She slowed her pace, pushing away the memory as she passed the shooting range. Vorcha, batarian, and human mercs were being shot. She didn’t bother to duck. Even without a helmet, her shields would hold up. Instead, she sighed, a longing in her chest that she couldn’t describe. Garrus was one of the few she didn’t want to fight the reapers without. Where in the hell was the big guy when she needed him? _Disappeared without a trace, my ass._

“They’re digging tunnels to get to him,” Jacob’s voice whispered in her ear, almost making her jump. He trod lightly in the most literal sense. 

Zaeed appeared on her left, steps raucous, forcing her fists to tighten. “And the Blue Suns, they’ve got a gunship prepared. I saw an old bastard I used to work with.”

Shepard sucked her teeth. “Then let’s hurry and find this Cathka asshole.”

Sergeant Cathka, a batarian with the Blue Suns, was in charge of repairs to the gunship and strategizing the assault on Archangel. He spoke in a deep, raspy voice and smoked constantly. Go figure. Shepard pressed on information about his gunship and tactics while he sent men to battle, looking for weaknesses.

“Go ahead to the bridge. I’ve got to get this gunship back up to par,” Cathka finally said as he turned his back.

Shepard gritted. Archangel was up against an infiltration team and freelancers on the bridge. Her eyes locked onto a taser-gun behind the merc. _It’d be a low blow,_ she shook the thought, _it’s necessary._

Approaching slowly, she grabbed the taser and whispered, “Take a day off,” as she lodged it into his back. Cathka shouted out, shaking, and fell to the ground. He didn’t move but seemed alive... sort of.

Jacob tightened, furrowing his brows. “Was that necessary?”

Zaeed chuckled. “One less bastard to fight.” 

~*~

Shepard took off her visor, staring over the bridge that led to what looked like a short rise apartment. Archangel, covered head-to-toe in blue, shot at the mercs around her from a balcony. He landed headshots, the men's bodies dropping immediately, but mercs were breaking through. _How long has he been at it?_ The thought left her as Jacob assessed their odds against the freelancers.

“They won’t see us coming,” she muttered after glancing back toward the Blue Sun camp, seeing her party was the last wave of hires. Then she aimed her silencer at the mercs on the bridge, shooting down the few who shot at Archangel. 

Shepard stumbled back, shots bouncing off her chest, and glared up at the mysterious fighter. The soldier lowered his weapon and cocked his head to the side. Surely, he could've tried to take her head off.

“That the bastard we saving?” Zaeed asked.

She brushed the bullets off her armor; the new paint chipped, making her grit her teeth. “Not if I change my mind.”

Zaeed laughed.

“She’s with Archangel!” a freelancer shouted, alerting her attention. Zaeed quickly hushed him, but the damage had been done. The other guns-for-hire turned around, their faces angry and confused, then dead as the older man planted bullets in them. 

“Not bad, greaseball,” Shepard said with a smirk, placing a hand on her hip.

That left Jacob to grumble while Zaeed accepted her praise with a large ego. “Only the best, Sunshine.”

They advanced into an ordinary-looking apartment full of furniture and books, save for barricades and dead men. Then they ascended the only staircase, killing two freelancers before Jacob pulled out a tool kit to fry open the door. “Here’s nothing.” He stepped back and with a final push, the three of them burst into the room, weapons raised.

Shepard surveyed the space then motioned for them to lower their guns as she spotted the armored turian. He sniped targets over the ledge of the balcony, unaffected by their bold entrance. 

“Archangel?” she asked, a hand on her gun. The blue helmet was dark, but there was a glow underneath when he turned his head to her before looking back through his scope.

He shot a man through the eye then pushed out of his lean and approached, a familiar air overwhelming her as his height loomed over, forcing her head to tilt upward. She stepped back, crossing her arms with narrowed eyes. _The armor is different but-_ Archangel removed his helmet, revealing blue facial markings that were scratched but _there_. And that same visor on his left eye. _-it's you?_

Her jaw parted, unable to speak.

“Shepard,” Garrus said, eyes scrolling over her different appearance. “I thought you were dead.”

“I was,” she said in an inhale, swallowing emotions into her chest, then exhaling. “W-what are you doing here?” 

Garrus chuckled in his throat but didn’t smile or give an answer. As he sat down on a table, his face looked different than before, less full of life. His eyes had a lackluster tint to them, unlike the turian who was so adamant about taking down Saren.

A moment passed.

"You okay?" 

He blinked, as though returning to consciousness. Part of him realized she was still there, still talking to him. Breathing, alive. It could've been a ghost to haunt him, but he decided to entertain the slim possibility that real-life Shepard was in front of him.

"I've been better. It's nice to see a familiar face."

"Why-" She stopped, following the far awake look in his eyes, unable to see that the stiff battlesuit was the only thing keeping him upright, that he wasn't really there, not really. Fixing her hands on her hips, she regained some composure. Then she huffed. "You know, a few of those rounds hit me, asshole.” 

“You were taking your sweet time.” Garrus's eyes lingered over her face, tracing the thin orange scars from cheek to chin. He roamed up to her shaved hairline, once proud and red, with a narrowed expression.

She looked down to avoid his gaze, then sighed, donning her signature smirk. “I see you again and you manage to piss off every major merc org in the system?”

“Killing mercs is hard work, especially alone.” His mandibles didn’t widen as she raised a brow. “But I learned from the best.” She tried to smile back, staring into him. They were silent for a moment, looking at ghosts of one another. One a vigilante, and the other dead.

_There's so much I wanted to-_

Jacob cleared his throat.

“We can do the reunion later, Sunshine.” Zaeed drew his weapon towards the stairs. “We’ve got company.” 

“I need you to come with me,” Shepard rushed her words, heart beating faster, **_“Reapers.”_**

Garrus gaped, surprised enough to wake from his trance. There was a hint of emotion in his eyes, leaving room for only a scoff. He sounded like his old self as he said, “Why do you always need me when the world’s ending?” and then rose from his seat. “Alright. Get me out of here, and I’m your turian.”

She smiled. "Good, I'll take out the bastards downstairs." Her fingers snapped. "Jacob, stay here with Garrus. Make sure _nothing_ happens to him, and I mean nothing." Jacob shot a confused glance at the turian's fully-armed body, but he nodded and affirmed Shepard, leaving her to rush downstairs with Zaeed to take out the infiltrated mercs on the ground.

As the two backtracked through the first-floor entrance, Shepard felt tears brim her eyes. _He's alive, he's really alive._ Thank the heavens, thank whatever asshole out there controlled the flow of life. Thank-

“You cryin', Sunshine?” 

Shepard chuckled, shaking her head. _Reunion later._ “I’m just weeping cause’ I had to take your sorry-ass with me.” She shot at mercs while he laughed, complimenting her rough attitude.

Life returned to her as she gunned down men. Adrenaline rushing, her old reckless self reappeared, running head-first to mercs and butting one with her gun before shooting him dead. They made quick work of the basement floor, landing shots to close the shutter plates. 

Zaeed shouted, “That Blood Pack bastard’s gettin’ through!” 

Shepard’s energy surged, watching the krogan in red charge past the shutters. She leaped onto a stack of crates, running and jumping from a height several feet above the mercs to crash into the huge Blood Pack krogan. He was surprised and tried to shake her off, but she held on to his head plate. Her gun lodged itself between his shoulder blades and she fired, jumping down as he collapsed to the floor, spurting blood.

Zaeed planted assurance bullets in the krogan before laughing. “I didn’t know you was' a damn acrobat!”

She laughed, rushing back the way they came to Garrus’s base, Zaeed on her tail. They reached the first floor, taking out the Blood Pack leader on the way. “Bridge and Infiltrators down, that just leaves the gun—”

 **“Archangel!”** a voice boomed that froze her in place. She glared at Zaeed and then sprinted up the stairs, chest pounding at the gunship looming into view. **“This ends now!”** It fired into the room.

“Garrus!” she shrieked.

He lay on the ground, crawling as the ship fired again. Then he crumpled, unmoving. She choked on her breath, fury growing, firing shots at the ship, ordering Jacob to fire at it, demands that were jumbled.

Jacob flinched, surprised at her break in composure. He ducked for cover, sending a biotic warp to the influx of Blue Suns mercs scaling the wall. “We have to take out the ship, commander!”

“Dammit!” she screamed, unstrapping the rocket launcher from her back with blurred, angry eyes. _I just got you back, I just fucking-_

 _“Give me that,_ sunshine,” Zaeed rushed, grabbing the rocket as her breath faltered. He set it up on the table, aiming straight for the gunship as it reappeared. 

“I'll kill that bastard,” she whispered, grabbing the closest rifle, glaring at the Blue Suns Leader. The room slowed to a calm. _Inhale_. She fired, watching the face change of Tarak. _Exhale._ Zaeed fired the rocket through the glass of the cockpit, finishing the job. A metallic taste filled her mouth, no guilt for sabotaging the ship as it fell.

Jacob ran over after planting bullets in the last of the men who tried to grapple the wall, then crouching over Garrus to scan his vitals with his omni-tool.

“Radio Joker.” She touched the warm, bloody metal of his suit. Garrus's eyes snapped open and he choked out, pupils darting wildly until they locked onto her and softened. _You're alive._

She squeezed his hand tightly, forcing life into it as his eyes lingered over her. _Don't die on me._ He choked out blood, struggling to speak then his eyes rolled back.

Jacob shook his head. “He won’t make it-” he choked, uniform grabbed as she pulled her face close to him, eyes wild and dark.

“Radio. Joker. _Now.”_

***


	5. Wake Up, Garrus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus awakens, looking for Shepard.

Shepard didn’t have time to feel surprised that Dr. Chakwas was on the ship. The doctors rushed Garrus into operation and Chakwas ordered her to leave the lab. Instead of twiddling her thumbs, she wasted no time re-boarding Omega with Zaeed to find Mordin Solus. Anything would be better than waiting hours, and an additional doctor felt like extra assurance. _Hopefully._

It took two hours to find Mordin and clear out mercs in the quarantine zone, and to her surprise, the salarian was easy to convince; hook up a ready-made cure for the sickness in the lower apartments and he’d join the team. Mordin spoke at a fast pace, all of his phrases brief and sentences long, but it was clear that his knowledge would be crucial to the mission.

Her steps clanked loud against the metal floor of the ship. “I know he pulled through. He has to,” she muttered through clenched fists, making the crew on the bridge shiver as she passed.

“I wouldn't raise my hopes, Sunshine. Damn big missile.” Zaeed walked behind her, no cleaner than a few hours ago. 

“Turian race strong. Hit to facial plate, upper ridge? Nerve damage possible. Technology make fixable. Scarring definite. Survival unknowable.” _Breathe._ “I will oversee.”

Shepard almost wished she could hit the salarian when he finally stopped talking but Mordin's work could be the difference between life and death in fighting Collector swarms. And, if he could help Garrus in any way, he was worth it. The doctor had already connected with EDI to view Garrus’s scans on the walk to the ship; he was the real deal.

“Team dismissed,” she said with clenched fists before marching into the debriefing room. It was small and empty, save for a triangle-shaped table unit that displayed a glowing model of the ship. She grabbed onto the counter, breathing hard and gazing into the orange glow. Minutes passed, maybe hours as she stared into nothing, ignoring that her legs grew tired. Memories from the aftermath of Saren drifted to her, where she had last spoken with him.

_“Yeah, I plan to stay at C-sec, but if you’re ever saving the galaxy again...” Garrus said, standing awkwardly in the doorway._

_Shepard smirked. "I know, big guy." She patted his shoulder, pushing soft energy into it, gentler than she had on the Citadel._ _Garrus flinched, staring into her before she added, "And don't catch too many red marks," earning an eye roll from him._

When the automatic doors opened, she wiped the sweat from her brow and stood up straight, disoriented as blood rushed to her feet. Jacob approached, looking over her strawberry buzz cut and bronze skin with an unclear expression, wondering if he should comment on her condition.

“The docs corrected the damage with surgery and cybernetics. He’ll be functional again, but…” He turned to the door, brows rising in surprise.

Shepard followed his look and widened. There, Garrus's large body stood in most of the doorway, his suit damaged where the missile hit him and the right side of his face scarred and patched. A sight for very sore eyes.

“Tough son-of-a-” Jacob chuckled, not finishing.

Shepard smiled, taking in his tall blue figure, remembering for a moment the first time she met him on the Citadel. The time he first shouted, _Saren._ And then... reuniting on Omega, and how the bastard practically _threw_ himself at a missile. Her fists tightened, the pop of her joints breaking the silence. 

“Is it that bad?” Garrus approached, rubbing the good side of his neck. “Even you can’t hold a smile.” That's because she was glaring.

Jacob thought the commander would be happy with his recovery but she cracked her knuckles and launched a fist into the turian’s chest.

Garrus coughed, taking a step back. “Sh-shepard?”

She shoved a hand at Garrus's side and he stumbled back again. “You were always ugly, big guy. Slap some face paint on there and no one’ll notice.” 

Garrus chuckled, then coughing once more. “D-don’t make me laugh, my face is barely held together as it is.” He forced himself not to smile. She raised her fist and he put up his talons in defense. “Come on, I’m a _patient.”_

Jacob picked his jaw up and agreed. 

Shepard stormed past Garrus, leaving him to follow behind her. Jacob saluted as she left, and then sighed, finally breathing. How had that turian worked with her before? Then again, he himself was under Miranda, and she always got the job done no matter the costs.

_But this is scarier._

~*~

They were silent in the elevator, but Garrus could smell her angry scent, albeit its familiar sandy smell with a hint of sweet aroma from her hair. She smelled the same as she had before next to him in the Citadel lift, and it calmed him. 

“If you’re a _patient,_ go back to the damn lab,” she muttered, exiting to the mess deck after the doors opened.

He paced next to her. “Shepard, I’m fine, _really.”_

The doors to the med bay opened and he followed her to a bed with more pillows than needed, one perfect for a turian hit by a missile. “Lay your ass down, Vakarian.”

“Come on, I'm okay," he fought her with words as she reached up to grab at his chest and unsnap his armor. _Sniff._ Salarian. He shifted his eyes to the door, focusing away from her quick hands.

“Delirium. Disillusion. Denial. Present result. Battle repercussion. Scars deep. Healable. Damage reversible. Recovery possible but rest needed.” Mordin breathed. “Turian not resting. Why?”

“Oh, trust me, he's going to rest,” she grumbled, hitting a knuckle against his chest.

Mordin crossed his arms, watching Garrus with narrowed eyes that said, _I will sedate you._

Garrus shivered before he sighed and helped her remove his damaged armor. She placed the pieces into a bin while he dragged his body onto the bed. He wore a thick black bodysuit that hugged his muscles, which were still strong, but thinner than remembered. 

He took in her sad expression, feeling the room move slowly around him. “You know, some women find facial scars attractive. Mind you, most of those women are krogan.”

Taking in her soft laugh, his eyes flickered, face warm.

She stood over him, listening to the sounds of the med bay and watching him adjust his head with pillows until he sighed, fringe unbothered. “I’m concerned,” he mumbled between heavy blinks, “Why... Cerberus... with all the sick experiments they’ve done.”

“I’m a sick experiment now, Garrus,” she whispered, leaning a fist against the bed to lean over and pull the blanket up to his waist. Fatigue settled in place of his words; his eyelids closed, opened, and repeated. She rolled her eyes and smiled. “Stop fighting it.” His arm moved toward her and she placed a hand over his and squeezed. “I'm not going anywhere.”

The gentle words settled as he breathed out a sigh, closed his eyes, and sank fully into the half-nest of pillows. Once he was snoring softly, Shepard whooshed, slowly releasing his hand.

“I don’t know how he even got up and dressed,” Dr. Chakwas’s voice emerged. “I can only wonder what he’s been through all this time.” 

Shepard turned, seeing only Chakwas in the doorway, and met her with a smile. “Doc, you don’t know how much I missed you.” She approached, intentions clear for a hug.

Chakwas chuckled, embracing the commander, and they held for a moment. “And I, you, Jean. I never thought I’d be working for Cerberus yet here I am on your ship again.” 

“Good, now stay, forever.” Shepard sighed into her silver bob, taking in the smell of tangerines before releasing the older woman.

Chakwas smiled, eyes glossy. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Shepard softened, looking from her to Garrus. “Me too.” This time she meant it.

* * *

Palaven

The sun glare burned the back of Garrus's neck, causing him to groan out for the third time that afternoon. Bullseye targets stood from ten, twenty, and thirty yards away on the dry plane. His home province was far behind him.

“Father!” He groaned, lugging the sniper rifle nearly a third of his weight. “It's impossible, I'm tired.”

Castis Vakarian glared at him, mandibles tight as he crossed his arms. “Do it again.”

“Can't you show me one more time?” Garrus mumbled, looking down at the ground between his clawed feet.

The older turian sighed, then extended a hand out to take the rifle. “You can do this yourself,” he said, lifting the scope to his eye to hit the closest target clean through its center. “You have to practice.”

Garrus took a deep breath, stretching his sore arms which were finally free. Perhaps he could hit the target, but the rifle was heavy. He looked up at his father's back, covered in its orange and blue uniform, neck ridges far away considering his height.

“There.” Castis returned the gun to him, then giving him a nudge forward in the back. “Now do it again.”

“Alright...” Garrus mumbled, lugging the heavy gun again, shoulders aching. He flinched, feeling a gentle hand on his shoulder as he lifted the scope to his eye, arm muscles burning.

“Aim.” He complied, centering over the target. “Hit.” The rifle fired at twenty, pushing Garrus's body back, but Castis held him steady. A breath escaped him and he lowered the gun, then wiping the sweat from his brow.

“Don't just give up when things get hard, Garrus,” Castis said quietly, assuming his arm-crossed position again, this time looking down at Garrus's face. A similar face met him, bare without any stripes.

“Otherwise-”

“I won't make it anywhere in life, I get it, dad,” Garrus huffed, pulling the scope back up to his eye. “I said it's heavy, not that I can't do it.”

Castis sighed, shaking his head with a slight smile. “Hit it, again. This time the thirty.”

~*~

Garrus opened his eyes, staring at white and grey. The sounds of the ship engine churning entered his keen ears, alerting him that he was not on Omega anymore, that he wasn’t in danger. 

“You're awake,” a familiar voice said from his blind spot in its prim accent.

He groaned, skull heavy before he could angle his sore body upward to see Chawkwas sitting at her desk. The room was a medical bay that looked _eerily_ much like the Normandy's. Events flooded his head muddy as he felt a dull ache at his face and shoulder, remembering being surrounded by hands operating on him, and _Shepard._

“Doc?” he asked, rubbing his eyes to fully wake up. “Don't tell me all of that wasn't a dream.”

She smiled, approaching his bed to wave her omni-tool over him. “Which part, exactly?” Then he was poked with a needle as his vitals glowed blue across her face.

“Uh...” Garrus shook his head, rewinding his last day at his hideout while he leaned back into the nest of pillows that supported him. “I was on Omega.”

“You were.”

“I... was pinned, running out of bullets.” He winced, squinting his eyes, feeling her poke and prod him once more. “I thought it was over for me until _Shepard_ came down the bridge. I know I took a missile to the face... but none of this feels real. I should be dead, and if I am, this is just...”

Chakwas placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. “You are here. And you'll be back at full strength, soon.”

“I-” Garrus shook his head. _It all happened._ The bridge. The betrayal. His call to his dad. “Where is Shepard?”

“She's on a mission,” a male's voice answered, and he locked eyes with a deep face he recognized from his hazy memories on the balcony where he shot mercs.

“You were with Shepard-” Garrus said, settling into a reclined position, which his head quickly punished him for. “The memory's foggy.” 

“Well, we had to sedate you so that you would rest a little longer, docs orders.” He entered fully and crossed his arms, standing with a pristine posture that made Garrus flash through Alliance days bitterly. “And I'm Jacob, in charge of the armory if you need any weapons requisitioned. Cerberus has got it all-”

“Cerberus?” Garrus froze, blinking back his daze. Was that part real, being on a _Cerberus_ vessel? “And Shepard is okay with this?” he hissed, turning to Chakwas. “Even _you_ , doc?”

She sighed, rubbing a hand through her silver bob. “I hope this will not be a problem, Garrus. We've all come to terms with our positions on this dangerous mission to save the galaxy.”

“From the reapers...” he muttered, lowering in hostility, leaning back staring at the ceiling again. The pressure at his forehead lowered, proving the medicine that coursed through his veins worked. “I remember that much... how long have I been out?” 

“More than half a day.”

“What!? Why didn't anyone wake me?” his metallic voice echoed against the ceiling. Garrus sat upright, ignoring the headache and pain this time. He shook his head as his talons fumbled over the IV in his arm. Lethargy attacked what little strength he had. _Sleeping... while she's out there, fighting!_

Jacob stiffened, looking from the doc to Garrus. “Uh, is this gonna be an issue?”

“No,” Chakwas responded then turned to him with a firm tone. “Garrus, _calm_ down.” He halted his outburst, face burning blue in embarrassment. “Your body was pushed to exhaustion, and then some. If it was up to me, you'd still be _resting.”_

Garrus lowered his arms, taking in the tangled mess of wire he created _._ “I-I'm sorry, doc, but I'd really like to get out of this bed.” _Shepard needs me._

She closed her omni-tool and sighed, nodding her head. “Very well, you are stable, but I'd like to monitor you every few hours.” He nodded and agreed, then she unhooked him from the medical bed, leaving Jacob to watch. “Besides, I know better than to not tie you to the bed.”

Garrus smiled, feeling the tape against his legs loosen. No wonder he could hardly get up. “You're the same doc after all.”

~*~

“And she's safe?” Garrus asked, pacing back in forth in the cockpit, heaviness in his body that he ignored.

Joker nodded for the third time, sighing as he stared into... well, space. “Yeah, dude, can you like, sit down, or something? You're making the crew nervous.”

Garrus turned on his heel, eyeing the bridge staff. Neither of them moved, punching in coordinates at their stations in unison. He raised a brow, turning back to Joker. “They look perfectly fine.”

“Yeah, I mean, _me,_ I'm the crew,” Joker huffed, slowing his beating heart. “This is a sacred space, man, your energy's a little chaotic.”

Garrus rolled his eyes then slumped into a co-pilot seat in the furthest corner of the cockpit, sitting sideways to face the dash. His body fit easier than it would have with armor on. “I can’t imagine she’s pleased about the AI situation.”

“You may refer to me as EDI, Garrus Vakarian. I am the automated artificial-”

“Not right now, EDI,” Joker grumbled.

“Very well, though I wasn't talking to you specifically, Mr. Moreau,” EDI retorted in a sarcastic tone that surprised Garrus. He focused his eyes back on the dash as her node powered off.

“Where is she, again?” Garrus asked, staring over the grassy planet through the open shutters. He couldn't make out any other details, and he hadn't seen the planet before.

“Picking up some krogan warlord guy, it'll be just like the old days,” Joker said in a sour tone, “More scary people.”

Garrus twitched, identifying an opening for wit. “You mean you're not on this cruise for fun?”

Joker chuckled, shaking his head. He reached in his pocket to unwrap a lollipop. “You'd think so after this many years-” 

“The mission appears to have reached dangerous development, Jeff,” EDI chimed.

Garrus rushed out of his seat to the pilot dash, staring over the coordinates Joker typed in between swears, candy sticking into his cheek. “What is it?” 

“Hm-just-” Joker made a face. “It's butterscotch, yuck. I hate mystery flavors.”

“I mean the commander!”

“Ugh, they're fine.” Joker pressed a button and her communication line transferred from his headphones to the speakers. Then he leaned back in his seat, the leather stretching under him.

*

 **“Someone shut that broad up,”** a rough man's voice entered Garrus's ears, somewhat familiar but still startling to be the _first_ thing he'd hear.

And then Shepard's voice entered, **“Drinks are on me for whoever does, one way or another-”**

 **“Prefer no alcohol. Quiet study,”** a third voice, salarian, answered.

“We have a salarian on the team?” Garrus asked, astonished.

There was silence, save for gunshots and Joker crunching on his lollipop.

 **“Patient awake? Need vitals. Must check progress. Should be resting. Turian not-** ” 

**“Focus on these assholes first, then you can play gaddamn doctor-urgh! Bloody mech!”**

There were gunshots and a woman's shout right against the speaker. Garrus squeezed his hand on the chair, convincing himself it wasn't Shepard. It had a higher pitch to it.

Shepard's laugh entered. **“Told you to watch your back, Zaeed!”** Garrus's breathing slowed, hearing her voice as she spoke to him. **“You awake, big guy? Thought you'd never be up.”**

Garrus swallowed then crossed his arms, composing himself. “Well, when you look this good, you need beauty rest.”

He was interrupted by EDI. **“Shepard, according to lab scanners, the room is flooded with toxins, and Okeer's personal life signs are failing rapidly. I recommend haste.”**

**“Damn it, hold up, EDI. We're going to check it out.”**

“On standby, ma'am,” Joker said, pressing a button to end the connection.

Garrus sighed, feeling like an idiot for being so worried. _She's the same Shepard, kicking ass._ What was he expecting? Why wasn't he with her? Missile aside.

“Is that all, or do you want to go down there personally?” Joker smirked as Garrus rolled his eyes.

“Well, I suppose they don't need back-up _for now_.” He pivoted on his heel as Joker laughed, making more uncomfortable crunches on the stick candy he claimed to hate.

 _Damn humans,_ Garrus chuckled to himself, walking down the bridge. The humans in the CIC didn't bother him, they only worked and clicked at their screens like programmed husks. He was more used to the scaredy-cat Alliance personnel, so the silence was unsettling. A woman with an orange fringe stopped him before the elevator.

“Hi there. Archangel, right?” she asked.

Garrus paused, bending forward to look down at her. She must have been about Shepard's height, wait no, _smaller_ even than she, but still small to him. 

“I'm Yeoman Chambers, but you can call me Kelly.”

He glanced around the room, taking note that other employees seeming unstirred by her overly friendly demeanor, and then said, “Chambers is fine, I'll be stationed in the battery when Shepard returns.”

Kelly frowned, watching him leave to the elevator with a hand on her hip. She smiled when he turned around, giving him a gentle wave, then huffing after the door closed. _Another tough shell to crack._

* * *

Babysitting

“I can't believe that idiot made us come here just to die on us.” Shepard shook her head, staring at the large container in the cargo deck. Behind the glass was a full-bred krogan that looked too at peace for its size. “Then he dumped his kid on us.”

“Hmph. Life work in prototype. Delusional. Foolish. Risked all for one strong. Won't have impact. Should have left it.”

“It bothers you that much?” She raised a brow at Mordin, leaning into a hip. “I mean, it's kind of cute.”

“For a full-grown bloody killer,” Zaeed retorted.

“Unbothered, much to do. Only wish to advise. Must return to lab.” Mordin huffed, sashay with a hint of attitude. 

Zaeed mirrored her stance, save for his lanky body and oversized shoulder pads, watching Mordin exit through the elevator. “He always this cranky?”

“Just picky. Hell of a support, though,” she muttered. Zaeed shrugged, then hooked his gun to his back, trudging across the cargo bay to climb the ladder to engineering, leaving her alone with the giant pod.

It looked alive... almost harmless. She shook her head. _It's a damn krogan._ Wrex taught her better than to let her guard down with a seven-foot-tall block of muscle. _You'll have to stay like this a bit longer._

“Hey, EDI.” She walked to the elevator, now empty, eyes scanning over the floor panel. “Send a crew to move that krogan pod to port cargo, better there than in the freight team's face.”

“Yes, Shepard.”

She paused before asking in an awkward voice, “And Garrus is still awake, right?”

“Garrus Vakarian is located in the main battery. He is adjusting schematics despite clear advising against such actions.”

She smiled, pressing the crew deck floor. “Good.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy. I'm curious if anyone still reads this story? If so I can start an update schedule for it rather than just periodic.


	6. Keep Your Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard talks with a dismissive Garrus.

Battery

“Hey, T-rex!” Shepard shouted, walking through the open doors to the battery. She frowned at the empty station that met her.

“Down here,” Garrus said in an echoing voice, “And that's _still_ offensive.”

She blinked, adjusting to the dim red lighting of the space. Beyond the main station, the battery extended into a large room with rows of electrical ports and wirings. She leaned over the railing, finding a short ladder to climb down. The room was warmer than it looked the further she paced in, which made it perfect for a cold-blooded recluse.

“Garrus, how can you even see down here?” 

He sat against a long panel, fiddling with a gadget in his hand. “It’s warm and things need to be fixed.” 

She rolled her eyes, accepting his not-an-answer.

"Are you feeling alright?" she asked, approaching his curled up figure. Her eyes fully adjusted, watching him tinker with some kind of screwdriver and a datapad, then cursing. "Hellooo, Earth to Garrus."

Garrus stopped his movement, ears twitching over the phrase. 

_"Hellooo," a voice sang out.  
_

_Garrus blinked, having realized how deeply he'd been focused on the mako, and for a species with such good hearing, that felt embarrassing._

_"Earth to Garrus," Shepard said as he pushed his arms to roll his body from under the vehicle. Her smirk met him as he blinked away the dim light of the cargo deck, taking in her bright fringe of fiery hair and logging the new human phrase._

He tilted his head up, meeting her smiling face. Her smooth brown skin was the same, but orange lines ran through it. Those challenging eyes were just as dark, though if one looked closer, they were truly a shade of red not unlike her hair. Speaking of hair, that fringe of fiery curls was replaced with... a low red cut, shaved. The difference overall was slight but it felt like a cruel error to her former visage. 

"Shepard, I'm fine," the words felt foreign leaving his mouth as he stared into her, unable to form helpful thoughts. His heart skipped in a way he wasn't used to, not even when cornered by danger on Omega. _She's different_. So different that he might think she was living a different life, but she wasn't. _She was dead._  
  
His stomach sank as she tilted her head, making it clear that she looked over the scarred side of his face.

"It's just a scratch," he said again.

"I know... and you were out for a while," she said quietly, breaking contact to kneel across from him against a different row of the battery. "I didn't expect to see you so soon, and then in danger, I probably should've known you were-"

 _"Soon?"_ his voice sharpened and his talons tightened. "It hasn't been soon, Shepard." Then he rose his eyes to hers, mandibles tight. "It's been _two_ years."

She nodded, shifting uncomfortably. In the silence, the hums of the battery filled the anger he felt in his chest, that he would go through so much grieving over her, to have her returned. _It's not your fault._ He shook his head, burying the anger, leaving room only for guilt. _It's mine._

"Honestly," she started in a calm voice, but it shook at the end. "If you're looking for an apology, I don't have one."

The words sank in for a moment.

Garrus raised his eyes to her, tightening his grip on the datapad. "I'm not." And then he sighed, releasing some tension to soften his mandibles. Hating her would do him no good, or even acting as though he did. "I'm glad you're here."

The words made her smile.

 _That cocky look is the same._ "There's no one else I'd rather be here." 

~*~

Shepard's laugh made Garrus cross his arms defensively. The chipper tone was drawn on for a long moment, echoing against the ceiling before she shook her head with a grin, knees bent in her crouched position. 

“Wait, so you left the Citadel with no money, no return home, and no place to stay?”

His mouth gaped, struggling to form a sarcastic retort. The room suddenly felt a darker shade of red, a new shade he'd just discovered called shame. “No way,” he finally defended himself as she smirked, tone lowering, “I had money, at least. And these looks.”

Then he chuckled with her while she laughed again. It felt good to laugh. He hadn’t in so long, and hearing hers dulled everything even for just a moment.

“That's just—wow. I wish I could do that.” Shepard sighed and leaned back on one elbow, eyes focused nowhere.

“You still can,” Garrus said in a mystic tone, resuming turning a bolt between his talons to fiddle with anything that calmed him. He let a moment pass. “We could steal the Normandy and disappear, go to a new galaxy.”

Her low hum filled the air, mouth twisting over the idea. “The reaper bastards would probably find us.”

There was silence as she stared at his fidgeting talons, chewing her bottom lip in thought. Another odd human face she made, Garrus noted, reminded of just how weird she _used to_ be to him. Yet, she was familiar. How much had he missed those ridiculous faces? It made him feel squeamish, and he opened his mouth to diffuse the feeling with humor.

She beat him. “Garrus.”

The tone was calm, but it had a weight to it that shut his jaw, him meeting her commanding eyes. Humans couldn't use subharmonics to convey language, but the way she carried her pitch had to come close. 

“What were you up to this time?”

He broke eye contact, prompting her brows to raise.

“If it's not a secret.”

Garrus rubbed a talon at the back of his head, scratching lightly at the small plates there. If he didn’t answer, that would make it obvious that it _was_ a secret. “Shepard, it's really not an exciting tale.”

“I mean, I literally died, so…” She gestured.

The sentence did little to soothe him, not wanting to be reminded of the catalyst to his uprooting. His breath quickened in the silence, arms growing stiff as she rose from her lean to shift positions. _Are you upset?_ Her every move met his eyes as he struggled to read her. There was no scent, only casual taps of her nails on the metal floor.

“Okay, you don't have to explain it,” she said, forcing him to swallow and lower his head. 

“Sorry,” he reconciled, feeling like a complete idiot. Where would he begin? Telling her the trouble he'd gotten into wouldn’t stop the dull ache at the right side of his face, and she might think him a fool. Were the meds even working? He should have taken her place—he deserved worse-

“It's alright,” Shepard said with an awkward smile, watching his expression. “No need to get all emo.”

Garrus shook his head and nodded, forcing a relaxed face, aware that she read him better than some turians.

“Besides.” Her smirk began as a relief this time. “You can tell me later since there's _no one else_ you'd rather be here.” She clicked with her mouth and waved a hand as he gaped out, words lost.

Shepard laughed as Garrus whipped his head away, neck burning blue. “Don't think you're at the top of my list, naturally that spot is for those as good-looking as me.” 

The way she could return the mood back to normal, he was grateful for it.

“Hah. Anyone with the ability to end those reaper bastards is kissable in my book. They could be a literal mega-cannon.”

Garrus cooled in thought, rotating back. “I don’t know, compared to all the mercs on Omega, even reapers are looking like prime…” his voice trailed off, following her drifting pupils. “...rib.”

She nodded, focusing on him with a blink after a moment. 

Garrus put down his tool and took in her disposition fully. Part of him might have been afraid she'd disappear or wasn't really there, but he refused to be ignorant. “We can talk later if you're tired. You just got back from…” _A ready-made krogan pick-up,_ he thought instead of, _the dead._

"Hm. No, I just didn't get much sleep." She rubbed a hand over her forehead.

He gave her a look.

“I mean for last night, yeesh. I definitely slept enough being... ya know.”

"Yeah..."

She started to grin. “Apparently, I woke up early, too, by Cerberus standards.”

“You'd think kidnapping you for two years would be enough,” he muttered.

“I know right.” With a groan, she smacked a hand against the ground, the sound waking her senses up. “With the rest of these upgrades, I wish they would have given me a battery port.”

Garrus's mandibles widened, using the silence to think before he said, ‘Well, that's my job.” Her eyes lit up. _“No,_ I can't install you a literal battery.” She pouted. “Spirits, you're so…” He cleared his throat, composing himself. She was still the commander. His own leadership—or failure to lead—wouldn't change that. “I work in the battery, get it?”

Shepard let out a giggle with her mouth closed. “So I can come here if I need to recharge?”

“Obviously.” He rolled his eyes, then narrowing them at her. “But, I mean if you need anything, I'm here. I don't care what it is, just ask. I wasn't…” he stopped himself. _I wasn't there before._

Shepard nodded.

“Alright, battery turian,” her voice broke his thoughts. He looked up at her rising shadowy figure, blocking what little light there was. “Your first order of business is to rest up.”

Garrus gaped as she sauntered down the rows toward the ladder, him fumbling from his crouch to rise after her. “Wait, Shepard.”

EDI's electric voice interrupted. **“Commander Shepard.”**

“EDI, hit me.”

**“I am unable to perform such action. Estimated arrival in the Ismar Frontier is two hours.”**

“Thank you, EDI,” she muttered, not sounding thankful. The AI node light cut and she let out a huff as Garrus closed their distance. “So many idiots to help, I swear.”

“Why are you going there?” he asked the back of her head. 

She rolled her eyes, opening her omni-tool. “Something with Zaeed.”

The name struck his memory from scrolling over crew logs while he waited for her to return. He had clearance to her crew notebook, or at least Joker did, but Garrus was grateful to see some semblance of her taking up space.

_Zaeed Massani. Merc stationed on Omega. Smells off. Into nicknames. Ask about Jessie._

“I'm coming,” Garrus said in a hurried voice, heart sinking when she shook her head before even considering.

“Can't. I want to take Jack out before she goes feral, Joker says the ship's health depends on it.”

_Jack. Subject zero. Biotic multi-cluster multi-criminal multi-headache. Nice tattoos._

“Even more reason I should go,” he didn't say. If Shepard _was_ the same as he knew, she didn't move in large groups and wouldn't take well to him pressing on. Even if he wanted to keep her safe, and make sure not a single bullet grazed her suit. He watched her close her omni-tool and then turn around with a curious eye.

“It's really not that big of a mission. It's some revenge thing about one guy.”

Garrus exhaled through his nose, doing little to hide his disappointment. He voiced no further concerns, watching her body climb up the ladder and then wave from the battery control station before departing.

“Revenge is never that simple,” he said once alone, left without her vibrant energy.

~*~

“And he didn't say anything else?” Chakwas asked, sitting at her desk flipping through files.

Shepard shook her head, feeling like the room would start spinning the more she paced back and forth along the empty beds. They looked too inviting. “You said he talked to you.”

“He didn't tell me much, only before he met with your team. Turians aren't the most _expressive_ species.”

Shepard sighed, remembering that most humans couldn't tell what a guy like Garrus was thinking, even though he seemed to wear his emotion on his sleeve from her perspective. “I get why he left the Citadel," she started, "I mean, who wouldn't with those bureaucrat assholes.”

Chakwas hummed. “One thing for certain is that you don't face impossible odds without being prepared to die. It is quite a change of luck that he met with you.” A pause. “That any of us did again.”

The room slowed to a stop as Shepard raised a brow. “You believe in luck, doc?”

Chakwas smiled, face wrinkling in all the right places, putting down her pad to cross her arms and legs. “Science can't explain everything, best we try.”

She nodded back, watching crew shifts change outside the lab window. “I'm worried about him.”

“He will come around. I'm monitoring his health.” Shepard looked somewhat relieved. “And yours.” She hesitated, raising a brow at Chakwas who stood and motioned her closer. “He might have almost died, but don't forget which one of you actually did.”

A breath escaped Shepard, and she approached the bed Chakwas stood in front of. She allowed her body to sink fully onto it, guided into a lying position by a gentle hand. Chakwas leaned over her, adjusting the scanner over her legs.

“I will seriously pass out if I lay here,” Shepard mumbled, met by the chuckle of the doctor, placing a warm hand over her eyes. 

“Rest, it’ll do you some good.”

* * *

Omega

Garrus stared outside the window of the apartment. There were few civilians walking, but he knew that crime was out there in the dark, waiting to be uncovered and shot through the eyes. Messing with the Talons gang had been a good start to his deeds, but you could never be too careful. A shout from the other room made him flinch, and he peered over his shoulder to see Sidonis’s figure sneaking up on him.

"Ugh," he groaned, "I almost had you."

Garrus exhaled. "I always hear you coming." Such small pranks were childish, but Sidonis always made an effort in their couple of months together. The team was small.

You couldn't have told Garrus when he'd met the beaten and timid turian that he would turn out to be so joking and carefree. Sometimes looking at Sidonis felt like a lighthearted picture of himself that he once was, but Garrus also knew that it was a facade - a coping mechanism - to distract from some pain only known to that person. He got that, much more than Sidonis knew - or maybe Sidonis knew more than he acted like he did. You didn't pass thirty-four _and_ survive on Omega by being a dumbass.

He turned back to the window and crossed his arms, ignoring the additional shouts identified as that of his team drinking and playing galactic chess one floor down. So far, he'd received no noise complaints, as his apartment district was noisy itself, but Garrus only liked to push his luck to the max, and not a talon over.

"Tell them to keep it civil, we don't want to alert the entire district to this location."

"Oh, come on," Sidonis purred, wrapping his arms around Garrus's shoulders and leaning his head against his ridge, his gesture close enough that his scent rubbed onto Garrus before disappearing. "You're so tense all the time. We did good this week, come eat."

"I'm not hungry." He huffed, shaking his shoulders to rid himself of Sidonis's weight and that awfully sea-like scent that made him sick, that made him want to lower his guard and laugh the way he used to with her. The motion was futile as Sidonis hung on and chuckled. He leaned into Garrus fully, both of them quiet for a moment.

Sidonis's voice started low, "If you miss them, then call them. Butler can make any line untraceable."

"Call who?" Garrus asked, partially a test to see if Sidonis had been prying through his files, or his head. Not trusting his first teammate was idiotic, but he could never be too cautious. He knew himself what Butler was capable of, so there was no reason for Sidonis to offer him up.

"I don't kno-o-w," Sidonis mumbled, unaware that he was being studied, stretching out his words as he pulled Garrus's arm. He allowed Sidonis to turn him from his place at the window, taking in the stocky appearance of the older turian. The slim unmarked battlesuit he wore made his figure look all the more muscular and dark with Garrus blocking the light.

"Maybe it's some guy, or girl. Your nagging mom or secret nephew," Sidonis said with confidence.

"Secret nephew?" Garrus scoffed, feeling him sway slowly with the soft techno music that played one floor below. There were laughs as someone won the round, two of his members throwing their hands up because they bet wrong. It was probably Monteague and Butler’s wife if he had to guess. Those women were terrible gamblers. Melenis, on the other hand, was excellent at gambling, which made Garrus the only turian _bad_ at it. 

Sidonis smiled as he finally pulled Garrus into a short dance, his body following before his thoughts. "I'm not as clever as you, leader." 

Garrus rolled his eyes, knowing Sidonis never called him that seriously, not in an earnest way like Mierin or Monteague might.

“Or as handsome,” Garrus added.

"Don't ruin it."

He stepped forward, senses returned as he danced Sidonis into a corner by the window of his room. Even moving to an apartment with windows was a foolish idea, despite its niche location, but he couldn't rent a small room from Butler's wife forever. The more he opened his heart, the more he wanted so eagerly to make his enemies taste justice.

"Hush."

"I didn't say any-"

"You're thinking," Sidonis whispered, angling his head up to meet Garrus's stiff brow.

"Not thinking, planning." Garrus closed his eyes, allowing the contact. Sidonis's arms wrapped around his shoulders and they nuzzled foreheads there for a moment. “We have to be prepared for our next move-“

The sound of a stomach growling filled their ears.

Sidonis scoffed. “What was that?”

Garrus’s face burned blue as he swallowed, clearing his throat to continue. “W-we have to-“

”Eat?” Sidonis asked, a twinkle in his eye.

Garrus nodded glumly, one of his less cool moments. It'd only be a matter of time before the hardened battle visage faded for a dork. 

“Even the Talons take dinner breaks, you know,” Sidonis added, pushing Garrus’s chest so that he’d unpin him from the window. He didn’t, staring into Sidonis’s face with analyzing eyes. 

Garrus shook his head, dropping the thought.He stood up straight to pull Sidonis free from the ledge of the window. “Fine, dinner, _then_ our next move.” He pivoted and sashayed to the door to avoid Sidonis’s tight smile. Melenis would shoot a knowing glance when they emerged from upstairs together.

~*~

Garrus tapped his fingers on the battery station, waiting for the line to click through. Being on the Normandy, it took a few extra moments. More channels to block.

It clicked.

“Hello?” a metallic voice asked, encrypted, sounding different than in person.

He swallowed before answering, “Petanis. It’s me.”

A moment, and then the voice said, “I can’t hear you clearly, ma’am.”

That was their key phrase.

“Try using your headset.”

The voice phewed, tone more casual. “I thought something happened to you. You were really serious about that ID, and then nothing. Are you okay?”

Orange light swirled against his blue visor in one eye, watching the network for any tracking threads. “I’m fine. Have you found anything?”

There was a heavy exhale. “Whoever this poor bastard is, they don’t want to be found.” 

He tightened his claws on the counter, scratching it lightly. “Remember, any lead, it doesn’t matter how small.”

”Affirmative,” they cleared their throat, tone changing, “Yes, ma’am, we’ll see if they can find your lost Pyjak but there are no guarantees.” There were other voices in the background.

Garrus huffed. “Any lead. Over.” The line cut and he released his grip on the counter, a mark left in place of his talons. “EDI won’t like that,” he thought to himself.

 _And neither will Shepard with you lying,_ his reflection said as he stared into the shiny dashboard of the main station. A Garrus with no scars and a sensible mind met his incredulous look.

“It's not lying, I'm just waiting for the right time.”

The reflection rolled its eyes. _She'll find out, you know she will._

"I just need time," he whispered. 

_You used up your time._

He scowled and smudged his hand across the screen until that sane Garrus was gone.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new schedule! going to update every Tuesday :> I'm a sucker for comments c: so i'd appreciate any


	7. Shadow Sea, Horizon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A familiar face emerges on Horizon, leaving Garrus with mixed feelings.

The CIC looked as busy and boring as usual when Garrus left the elevator. As he sighed over the space, a throat clearing alerted him. He angled his head down, staring at a bright head of orange hair. _What was her name again?_

“Kelly,” she said in an inviting voice, “Kelly Chambers.”

“Right…” He scratched his head awkwardly, remembering how rude simply staring at a human could come across. It’d been far too long on Omega to remember small greetings and interspecies etiquette. Shepard never cared for such things, and neither did the thugs ready to knock your teeth out.

“Chambers,” he said to himself.

She hummed and crossed her arms, seeming even shorter. “You aren’t just going to remember it to avoid me, right?” 

He froze, stuttering. “Ah- no-”

“I’m kidding, Garrus. Is it alright if I call you that? Are you looking for the commander?”

Garrus shifted his stance awkwardly. _I see, she’s the yeoman and psyche._ Every turian ship had a psyche. They paid attention to make sure that no one was ready to airlock themselves. Usually, a doctor did the job, but sometimes a squad leader was assigned in secret to keep things running smoothly. 

“Yeah, Shepard,” he said in a calm voice. He’d lost time tapping lines to secure his call, but she should have been back. The sound of a door opening broke his concentration. “Excuse me,” he muttered, whipping around to the tech lab to make eye contact with a human man covered in dirt. _Zaeed_.

Zaeed stopped in front of Garrus, a twisted look about his face as he took a moment to angle his head up and down despite being shorter than Garrus like most _tall_ humans. “So you’re archangel, huh.” The notes hadn’t said anything about his drawn-on accent. 

Garrus crossed his arms, leaning into a hip. “Who’s asking?”

There was no hostility from the merc, so that odd look on his face must have been a smile. 

The doors behind them opened, but Garrus could smell her coming a second beforehand. Shepard stepped into the CIC, a soft smirk appearing as she saw the three of them crowded. 

“I should thank yer for giving ‘em Blue Suns ‘ell.” _Hell?_

Garrus glanced at Shepard for help.

She hummed. “He founded the group. Long story.”

Garrus gaped as Zaeed laughed and swaggered away. Once the elevator doors closed behind him, Shepard entered the room fully, leaving Garrus to his confused thoughts. He couldn't put it into words. It wasn't kinship and certainly not solidarity, just the feeling that they'd drink together one day. Such foolery had to be a custom being two who survived a shithole. 

“Did the debriefing go well, commander?” asked Kelly as she approached. Garrus moved out of the way, a feeling that he was interrupting their conversation. 

“As well as it could go. I let the guy who shot him in the head go free while threatening to leave him for dead. He’s taking it well.”

Garrus’s jaw unhinged. _“You what?”_

Shepard turned to him with a tired look and shrugged. He definitely should have been there if she was traveling with someone so unstable. Or was she the unstable one?

Kelly smiled. “I think he will come around. Cerberus pays well.”

She nodded to the yeoman. “If not, the airlock is an option.”

They laughed together, making him shift uncomfortably.

Garrus exhaled through his nose as Shepard smiled at the other woman, standing a little taller than her and more muscular. There was something sweet in her scent. He placed a hand on his hip, tapping his talons impatiently. 

“I’ll talk to you later, Kelly. For now, a nap is-”

**“Commander Shepard.”**

She huffed so deeply that it made Kelly wince-smile in solidarity. Garrus turned to the EDI node near the elevator with them, sharing a glum expression.

**“You have an urgent message from the Illusive Man.”**

Shepard’s fists tightened before she said, “Can this wait just _one_ hour, EDI?.” There was no response, making her blink around the room, noting the faces of the crew that looked down when they met her eyes.

“Ugh, I’ll go now,” she muttered, marching back into the tech lab. 

* * *

Horizon

Shepard stared over the grassy civilian plane with irritated eyes. “I can’t believe I’m here when I’m supposed to be taking a fucking nap.” Horizon was a human colony that TIM alerted her was being attacked by collectors. The only tool to diffuse her immediate shock was anger.

“Mordin, are you sure this armor will protect us from the bugs?” she asked in a hurry, a tickle in her skin crawling up her back at the flying swarms yards away.

He hummed, fiddling through his omni-tool then clicked his pistol. “Should confuse detection in seeker swarms, make us invisible in limited numbers. In theory.” 

“In theory?” Garrus’s metallic voice broke the wind. “Sounds promising.”

Mordin chuckled. “Experimental technology. Have to test in person. Very exciting.”

 _Exciting?_ Shepard swallowed, not bothering to deliver a silent prayer. The only option in front of them was to survive or not. This would be the end of their story or a stepping stone in it.

Moving into the colony proved more shocking than she could ever imagine, but she didn’t show it. Neither did Garrus, and neither did Mordin, who on the contrary seemed interested in everything. 

“Husks?” Garrus asked no one, staring at the blue and gray bodies on the ground before them. They’d shot the creatures through the glowing chest cores only a moment ago.

Mordin responded, “Proof collectors working with reapers. Colonists turned into them?”

Shepard exhaled through her chest. “No… these aren’t like Eden Prime.”

That mission where she’d first seen the bastards, where she’d lost Jenkins but managed to save Kaidan. Her knuckles turned white clutching her rifle at the irony that no one she took to the colony that started it all was with her anymore. Not Jenkins, nor Nihlus... nor Kaidan.

“Well.” Garrus moved close enough that she could feel his heat at her shoulder. “They die if we shoot them.”

 _But if they’re experimenting on the colonists…_ the grim thought took her.

“Find out for sure. We stop them.” Mordin said, breaking her trance.

“Yeah, let’s move out.” She agreed.

They paced further into the colony, a collection of small buildings and structures containing offices, apartments, and ready-made areas straight from an Earth-to-space brochure. Each door opened left nothing behind it save for eerie energy in the air.

Garrus sniffed for the fifth time.

“You smell something.”

“I don’t, that's the problem,” he grumbled. “Empty buildings and no gun powder. It’s… unsettling.”

“No signs of resistance. Happened quickly. Must have. Way to neutralize colonists.”

If Mordin was as shaken as he, Garrus couldn’t tell. He didn’t lower his guard or gun, but each step of the way he had a new theory, denoted by a flick of his eyelids or low hum.

“It’s just like Freedom’s Progress,” said Shepard. The colony that was completely _empty_ when they’d found it, other than Tali’s squad and an impaired quarian. “They take and leave nothing.” _What more can they take?_

Garrus watched her tense look carefully, then said, “We’re changing that,” staring at her with certain eyes. His urgent conversation would have to wait. There was no time to fall apart when Shepard took priority.

“Look!”

He followed her eyes to a… woman who stood frozen. Mordin paced to her first, raising a hand so that they wouldn’t touch. The scan worked quickly, and then he shook his head.

Shepard’s face fell. “She’s dead?”

“Suspended. Frozen. Unconscious. Breathing.”

“Alive?”

“Alive. See more. Further we go.”

There were more colonists in the same state, faces warped in horror, bodies stiff and lukewarm to the touch as though they were a 3D movie that someone clicked the pause button on. Many were in organic pods that Mordin took samples from, but now, they had covered twenty minutes of ground with nothing.

“Where are the rest—” 

Mordin scowled, pointing at the large ship they all gaped to view. Only the top of it was visible from across the colony. It would take minutes to get there.

“Colonists on ship. Collectors almost finish.” He picked up his pace. “Need to hurry.”

“Come on!” She took the lead, sprinting into an _empty_ clearing that left a primal feeling in Garrus’s gut.

“Wait!” Garrus hissed, firing warning shots. “We’re not alone!”

They took cover in the battle, Garrus to a ledge at her left for support, his sniper picking off heads. Mordin was close to her, surprisingly flexible and adaptive to Garrus’s eyes the few times he glanced out of his scope.

Shepard’s fighting style was the same wild onslaught as their former exploits. Krogan style, small girl. She charged in when it was least expected and left no room for complaints, her short height being an advantage. If the collectors wanted a moment to breathe, they’d have to take it up with the rifle pressed to their neck.

“Your left!” Garrus commed, gritting his teeth as one of the bastard beings glowed a cruel yellow, harsh on the eyes of all near, and curdling ears as it proclaimed in an unnatural screech, **_“I am harbinger!”_ **

Garrus dropped an empty cartridge then picked off the group pinning Mordin so that the doctor could support the commander. And he did. Mordin simultaneously tossed a cool grenade, shot two collectors in the neck, and grabbed Shepard, changing their cover to a spot that Garrus lit with his infrared light. Their teamwork was seamless.

That is, until a bug-like creature dropped in from Spirits knows where, shooting a ray of hot liquid at Garrus's location, making him dive for cover. "Big guy!" Shepard shouted, attacking the collector bug head on to distract it. Garrus composed himself quickly, sprinting across the roof to a new position, loading up his _good_ bullets, the ones saved for especially nasty bastards.

When the battle ended, two dozen collectors lay dead. Garrus sighed, heart slowing to a steady pump as he hopped over multiple railings until he reached ground level. _That was a lot._ His body felt tired, but that could have been due to being still-in-recovery. What the hell had she been fighting before him?

The doc was crouched down by Shepard, his scanner open. _Something’s wrong._ Garrus swallowed, speeding up to a jog.

“Shepard, are you hurt!” It wasn’t a question. In his mind, she was already being taken. He was too slow, he wasn’t paying attention. She’d been hit in his blind spot. The reapers had won again.

 _“Turian.”_ Mordin’s eyes cut to him, a look in them that he recognized well from reconnaissance days with the fleet. _You are a turian, right?_ Garrus swallowed. A turian was useful to no one if he couldn’t keep his fringe above his ass, like his father once said.

“Just a scratch. Minimal.” Mordin turned back to her punctured suit.

Garrus took a breath, waiting, slowing his heart to keep militaristic composure.

“Didn't even see that bastard,” Shepard grumbled once she stood up. He could see where the hole in her suit was _not_ large. That might be life-threatening for Tali, but not a human in a _human_ colony. 

“Let’s go.”

An odd feeling wafted over as she passed, prompting him to pause, a familiar ache at his stomach that he couldn't describe. "Ya sure you're alright?" he asked, forcing a surprised look from Shepard. Then he smirked, using a facetious subtone, "I can carry you back."

Mordin scoffed. Salarians could hear a turian's second vocals. Shepard, on the other hand, read his sarcasm and delivered a light punch to the shoulder.

_Guess she's okay then._

Garrus diverted power to the clearing they were in via his hacking line, taking a life scan of the area once the collector ship flew away.

“There’s someone-” He looked up, following the shocked expression on her face to the woman that approached, palms exposed with no hostility.

“Shepard.” Garrus took a position behind her next to Mordin, taking in the polished appearance of Ashley with uncertain eyes, _their_ hard-ass gunnery chief Ashley.

Ashley looked just as shocked, and then she wiped it away, donning Alliance stoicism. “I thought you were dead, Commander, we all did,” she said in a voice was _angry._

Ashley reached her hand out for a shake but Shepard stormed to her and yanked her arm into a hug. The chief had grown an inch taller in two years. The hug was brief, but it confirmed to either of them that the other was real. Ashley looked hardened like a flower sealed in a frame. 

“Well, I’m not dead,” Shepard said, breaking the connection. “Cerberus brought me back to stop these attacks.”

“Cerberus?” Ashley's face warped to horror, taking a step back. “You mean the reports were true?” she asked, eyes cutting between Shepard and Garrus. “And you too, Garrus?”

“Ash, listen-” Shepard started.

“You’re with _Cerberus_ ,” she whispered to herself.

“Reports?” Garrus’s head twitched, no detail lost on a former c-sec agent. His eyes narrowed. “You already knew.”

“You knew I was alive?” Shepard’s brows dove, eyes flitting for an answer.

Ashley tightened her fists, suddenly uncomfortable. “Anderson wouldn’t talk. There were _rumors_ that you weren’t dead… but that didn’t bother me as much as seeing you work for the enemy.”

Shepard looked incredulous. “We have the same goal, saving the Colonists!”

Ashley scoffed.

“I don’t answer to them.”

“Is that really what you believe, or what _they_ want you to believe?” there was venom in her voice.

“ _Careful_ , Williams,” Garrus said in a level tone.

Ashley glared at him then Shepard. “I wanted to believe that you were alive, but I _never_ expected anything like this. You’ve turned your back on everything we stood for!”

Shepard grew aggravated, former relief well-faded and gone. “Grow the hell up, gunnery chief. The past is done.”

She stuttered out, unable to answer.

“Collectors are targeting human colonies _right now_ like you just saw with _your_ _own_ _eyes,_ the present isn’t all rainbows. We have to save them.”

Ashley hesitated, breaking composure, a hint of fear to her voice. “And what if they’re setting you up? They could be working with the reapers. How do we know that it’s the collectors doing the dirty work?”

Shepard struggled with the words hanging in the air, knowing she didn’t have such an answer. She folded her arms, taking a step back. 

Garrus interrupted. “Don’t focus on Cerberus, Williams. You’re ignoring the real threat.”

Ashley’s voice lowered, “Or, maybe you feel like a slave to Cerberus because they brought you back.”

“What!?” Shepard shouted.

“I know where my loyalties lie. I’m an alliance soldier, it’s in my blood. I’ll let the Citadel decide if they believe your story.” Ashley turned on her boot.

“Dammit, Chief!” Shepard shouted again.

“Commander.”

“What?”

“It’s Commander Williams now,” Ashley said over her shoulder and then walked away. 

Shepard balled her fists, but they shook. 

Garrus stared at the back of her helmet, words lost. “She’s changed,” he finally said, eyes unfocused on the red blotches. _We all have,_ he admitted silently.

“Joker,” Shepard said into her helmet radio.

 **“Sorry, commander.”** He didn’t say why he apologized. She knew he had listened. Joker cleared his throat. **“I’ll… send a shuttle if you’re done.** ” 

“Yeah.” 

Headwind carried a scent to Garrus that he didn’t like, her sadness. It drew the feeling in him of dying roses, or a fire extinguished by acid, he couldn't decide. The only thing he knew for certain was that he wanted to put a bullet in anything that made her feel that way - or anyone.

“I’ve had enough-” She walked away mid-sentence, pacing in the open area, stance turned away from them so they wouldn’t see her face. He didn't have to see it to understand.

Garrus sighed, slumping his shoulders. To his surprise, Mordin still said nothing, not even a hum.

* * *

Normandy

Shepard slumped against a bench in the tech lab, feeling ridiculous for still thinking about that stupid colony. The mission felt like a failure, different from Freedom’s Progress. There was nothing she could do about being woken up late, but on Horizon she’d lost half the colony to the collectors right in front of her, eyes wide open, ass out.

“Saved half,” Mordin corrected her, applying a bandage slathered in medi-gel and some other concoction of his to her bicep. “Better than saved none.”

“I didn’t accomplish everything I set out to,” she lamented as he removed his hand and flipped through his scanner. 

“No? Swarm device success. Collector tissue acquired. Husk advanced data. Confirm Alliance knowledge. Can take to Citadel.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m trying to be pessimistic.”

The older salarian smiled, saying nothing else as she rose from the seat, humming as he looked over various clear experiment containers with cords sticking out of them. He'd made his point, and it sunk in with each step she took.

“Medicine on counter,” he added a moment before she left.

She twitched, seeing the vial with pills. “What for?”

“Headaches. Drowsy effect. Sleep time. Grape flavor.”

 _I didn’t say I was…_ There was a moment, and then she nodded, taking in the reality that Mordin was a highly intelligent and astute doctor. Arguing with that reality would do little for her. “Thank you,” she said quietly, pocketing the pills. He seemed satisfied with the response.

Kelly’s concerned eyes met Shepard as she left the tech lab, her uniform pressed and clean. Her face was always warm and comforting in the whole three days that Shepard had been on the ship.

“Commander, are you alright?”

She nodded, closing their distance, then taking a step back. “Got scratched but it should heal fine.”

Kelly looked relieved and released a breath. “Oh, good.” She then blushed, smiling it away. “I wanted to see for myself, I know it was tough down there, but you’re doing important work.”

Shepard finally smiled, their eyes locked. “Thanks.”

~*~

**“Shepard, you’ve been awake over 18 hours with minimal—”**

“Thank you, EDI,” she said sharply, cutting off the voice. _I get it, I need a nap._ Though she wouldn’t be able to with her head pounding like a machine gun. The intensity increased, accompanied by high frequency before she plopped a pill in her mouth, surprised when the ball of fruity taste melted into her tongue.

“A neat trick,” she muttered, sitting down at her chair and spinning into the desk. After a few minutes of swears, she flipped through datapads and reports that Miranda forwarded to her, approving the few that asked for a yes or no. Mostly weapons requisitions. 

**“Commander Shepard.”**

“I’ll take a fucking nap, EDI.”

**“Garrus Vakarian wishes to enter.”**

Shepard paused, turning in the chair toward the door. “Oh. Okay. Set my line to do not disturb.” EDI said nothing else. The automatic doors to the office opened and Garrus stepped inside, still wearing his blue armor. He surveyed the room with his eyes, surprised at its elaborate size, and then he found her on the right at the small office space.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” She smiled awkwardly. “I’d say come in, but…”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, rubbing his head.

There was a moment of silence before she sighed and set down the datapad she’d been mulling over.

Garrus used the motion as permission to approach. “I thought you’d want to talk about today.”

Shepard chewed her lip. “The only alternative is dwelling on it.” His eyes lowered to the pill bottle in front of her, which she pushed out of his sight. “Just… headaches.”

He raised a brow. “Is it bad?”

“You'd think they'd be able to fix that with how much I cost.” She chuckled, then shivered, rising from her seat. “Actually, that felt weird to say. Pretend I didn’t.” 

Garrus nodded, standing in between her and the fish tank. He disregarded that she didn’t directly answer the question, feeling his own chest strain. Part of him had stilled to make sure she was okay, but seeing her calm demeanor made him think otherwise. He was the one who needed assurance.

“I don’t get it.”

Shepard slid between him and the stairs, motioning him down. “Get what?” She knew what. During the debrief, he'd hardly said anything, which made it clear to her that he was thinking dark thoughts, she just didn't know the specifics.

“Doesn’t she know what’s at stake?” he asked in a venomous voice, subharmonics ringing. If she was a turian, she'd be able to sense his agitation.

She sighed. _So we’re talking about that._ “You know she has her own reasons for doing things.” Ashley always did. For a short while, she felt furious herself, but after talking with Mordin anger seemed futile. The doctor had a way of dispelling all notions of emotion into scientific method.

“Yeah, reasons." He scoffed. "One of those reasons used to be hating me for existing, Shepard.”

Shepard couldn’t retort, remembering the rough patch those two went through in the cargo deck.

“And now she hates _you_ for existing.”

She flinched, cutting her eyes to him.

Garrus tightened his hands, a simmer of guilt tugging at his collar. _Not like I'm any better._ He owned the same sin for doubting Shepard after he’d isolated himself on Omega, for being furious that she would leave him behind. _But I'd never speak to you that way._

“I can’t fix everyone’s reaction to be perfect. I died, Garrus.”

“Sorry,” he whispered, dropping his shoulders in defeat.

“For what?”

_For believing you were dead. For giving up. For not trying to find you._

“Nothing.” He raised his head as she sat down on the L-shaped couch, rubbing her forehead. The leather exhaled as Garrus sunk across from her, sighing in unison. She seemed to let the cryptic words go, which he appreciated.

Hums of the ship filled the silence as she blinked, noting how fast the medicine worked. Half of her erratic thoughts had slowed, and her body relaxed, but she still wasn’t tired. It must have absorbed in stages.

“Everything is so new,” she finally said, opting to change the subject. “The food tastes different, the ship is different. I don’t know what the crew is talking about, _ever_.”

Garrus lowered his eyes. 

“I want to watch a movie, Garrus.” She shook her head at nothing. “I’ve been awake for not even a week, and I have to save everyone. How can I do that when I don’t know what movies are popular?”

“Hm…” he hummed. “That’s definitely a concern, with the reapers and all.”

“Right!?” She threw up her hands, smiling as he chuckled, finally in a better mood.

“Let’s watch every hot flick from the past two years once we save the galaxy.”

Shepard rolled her eyes. He smiled again, watching her pupils dart over nothing, likely thinking of all the movies and news and funny things that she didn’t have time to be updated on. “The Cerberus crew is also so…”

“Weird,” he finished for her.

She winced, feeling bad for judging them. _Almost_. “Yeah.”

“But it’s kind of peaceful when no one flinches while you pass,” he said matter-of-factly. “I remember the Alliance types would have a heart attack every time Wrex farted or I sneezed.”

A laugh escaped her. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” He shook his head at the memory.

"Wait." She cocked her head. "Turians sneeze?"

"Sometimes." Most humans on the Citadel had heard a turian sneeze at least once, and it was a sound with multiple pitches and harmonics combining, a short orchestra that left the world dissettled. Not more terrifying than a krogan fart, though. 

“Ah…” she sighed, sinking into the couch, neck bent at an awkward angle. “I’m gonna miss those days. I’m down three girls now.”

“Three?”

“Liara, Ash, Tali?”

Garrus hummed, leaning back into the seat, one arm across the back. “I wouldn’t give up on Tali. We had a good thing going, the three of us.”

She scoffed, straightening her back and folding one leg under the other to face him. “You mean drinking and telling jokes?”

“We _could_ continue that again.”

The offer was tempting. Her face fell. “Who knows where Liara is. Tali’s on the list of dossiers, but I don't know if she'll want to come with us.”

He let a chuckle escape before the joke. “How far is the far rim?” 

**“It’s actually closer than the Citadel from here. 3 hours, tops.”**

Shepard jumped in her seat. “Joker!”

His voice laughed on the comm. **“My bad. We’re heading to the Far Rim, Commander. Over.”** The comm line cut accompanied by a moment of static.

“You look tired,” Garrus said, earning a yawn in response.

“I am… I think the meds are kicking in.” _And the sleep deprivation,_ which she didn't mention because it very much didn’t feel right after sleeping for two years.

He started to rise.

“Wait."

He did.

"Can you… talk to me until I fall sleep?” 

Garrus’s brow plates raised then he contorted back to a relaxed face. 

“Sorry, if that’s weird to ask,” she said through a second yawn.

"I'll stay."

"Thanks." She unfolded her legs to trudge to the bed in her black casual biker set. Showering would have to wait until morning. 

“Have you had trouble sleeping?” he asked as she made her bed to lie in, the sentiment made him shiver.

“It’s the falling asleep that’s hard.”

He nodded, understanding the feeling after days of being awake in the empty apartment, lost in his own violent sorrow and plans for revenge. Pulling bodies over his shoulder to give them a proper burial.

“You too?” she asked, making him flinch.

“S-sometimes.”

“When we found you, how long had you gone without sleeping?”

The frank question gave him pause, then he exhaled. “Honestly.” Garrus stared through her forehead. “I stopped counting hours after fifty. I don't know how long after that.”

“Garrus.”

“Yeah?” He focused again as her body slid under the unwrapped blanket and then under a bedsheet, socks still on, which he silently approved of. Some humans let their feet get cold, and that was odder than the idea of _holidays._

“I think I’m going to wake up the krogan baby.”

He stuttered, watching her dim the lights, keeping only the lamp behind her and the office lights on. “W-wha... I… didn’t know Cerberus revived a mother instinct in you.”

Shepard smiled, tucking her face under one hand, the backlight shining over her ear, eyes dark. “I never had one. You?”

Garrus crossed his arms. “I thought you'd notice how children flock to me.”

A chuckle escaped her as she closed her eyes, cozying into the sheets. “If he’s really alive in there…” Her voice grew quieter, “Maybe he deserves a chance at life.” Garrus waited for her to finish. “After all, I got two.”

“Whatever you do, I’m behind you.”

She smiled. “I know you are. I’m glad I made it in time.” To that balcony.

“Yeah.”

There were no further words as soft snores escaped her. He stared over for a moment, watching the peaceful look on her face. The last time he'd seen it had been after the fall of Sovereign in the memorial hospital. Turning to face forward, he sighed. How could he have known that would be the last time he'd see her sleeping? What cruel foreshadowing.

Garrus decided that she was sound and rose from the seat, taking careful steps up the stairs. He swore under his breath when the automatic doors opened, peaking back to see her stir, and then remain asleep under the blanket. _Phew._

Once on the mess floor, passing the robot members of the ship, he paused in front of a brown head of hair.

"Archangel," she said without looking up from her datapad. She smelled too good to be a regular crewmember. That wasn't requisitioned shampoo.

_Miranda. Second in command. Real straight lace. Cerberus lackey. Nice set of-_

Garrus stopped the thought, scolding Shepard quietly for her notes, and meeting only the XO's eyes as she finally glanced up from her work, face clear that he was an afterthought. Of course, he was. Garrus knew the only reason he'd been a dossier was to further the work of Cerberus, and because there was no better option that was human. To such an organization, all aliens were afterthoughts _._

_E_ _xcept for the ones that steal human colonies,_ Garrus scorned the thought, granting her a cordial response before he headed back to the battery, planning to work instead of sleep. 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: one someone requested i add green tea to a chapter, and I did


	8. Tali'Zorah Nar Rayyah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reunion with drinks helps Garrus to express his feelings.

Memory

The dark red night of Omega shone over the city-like landscape. Noises of the highway and thugs hurrying home echoed in the silence. “Did you know,” Garrus asked casually, “That butterflies shed their cocoon before they bloom?" He waited for a response, receiving none. "They were once something else completely.” 

Then he stared over the scope of his rifle, holding it up to his eye. It might take off the head of a mercenary, or not. There were enough rounds in his bag to make a decision. A stakeout left the night open-ended.

“Are you sure?” Sidonis asked in an odd voice, trying to find what he saw with only his naked eye.

“Yes.” Garrus’s finger twitched over the trigger, their moment silenced, and then he put the gun down and turned to him.

“What were they before?” Sidonis raised his gun and looked through the scope. 

“Short. Unsure of themselves.” Garrus glanced over as the turian leaned over the railing of the window ledge. “Great hips.”

Sidonis made the effort to roll his eyes. “Now you’re fucking with me.” When Garrus merely chuckled, he took the empty response and slid down against the wall, taking a drink of water.

There wasn’t much else to do but banter in the empty apartment of the building they trespassed. If they were lucky, a juicy conversation might start as passersby drifted through the alley. 

Garrus sank next to him, opting to take a break from look-out. There weren’t any movements that he wouldn’t be able to hear first. “I’m just saying,” he began again, “You can still evolve.”

“I literally did not ask for this pep talk.” Sidonis exhaled into his shoulder, the touching of their armor clanking. “I’m not running away from this.”

“I know.” Garrus leaned his head against him, rubbing slightly.

Their hands inched closer until their talons tangled in the dark and they sat there together, waiting for an illegal deal to take place. In that while, there was some semblance of peace.

Twenty minutes later, they would be shooting mercs.

~*~

“Ughhh.”

Garrus flinched, registering the moments he’d missed staring over the red room of the battery. The doors had opened. Shepard barged in and was talking to his back, _still talking._

“...and I completely regret waking up that little asshole!”

It took him a second longer to think about their past conversation, surprised that she remembered it in such a sleepy state. _Krogan. Frozen._

“Why?” he asked, sounding like he was listening.

She stopped her pace and leaned against his station next to him, pouting. Now her body was visible. Did she used to pout like that?

“He’s such a brat.”

Garrus laughed awkwardly. “Seriously?” 

By her face, she was. 

“You can’t undo that one.”

 **“She probably collected stray cats as a kid,”** Joker’s voice entered via comm. 

She looked away. “I did… not.”

**“Good luck sleeping at night with a fully assembled killer-”**

Garrus pressed the off button on his comm, turning his head to her with wild eyes. His mind came back from the void, and he fully took in her casual appearance and gun at her hip.

“Shepard, you’ve been awake for, what, a week? And you wake a battle krogan? I thought this was a down-the-road plan.”

“Not you, too, Garrus,” she groaned, rolling her eyes. “What was that about having my back?”

He rubbed his head with a talon. Only she could commit to a half-baked idea while asleep _and_ pull it off. “I just…” _Sigh._ “You’re right. We couldn’t have left him in there forever.” 

She looked satisfied. “Exactly. He would have gotten angstier.”

“Wait, what do you mean by that?”

“More angsty than before.”

“No, I mean, what is that? The translator’s all...” He motioned with an arm.

“Angst?” Shepard’s brow raised, looking between his eyes with a squinted look. 

“Yeah.” There were words that didn’t have an equivalent in other languages. 

She hummed. “Trigger-happy? Constantly on edge?” Then she rolled her eyes once he nodded his head. “Little asshole attacked me without even knowing his own name-”

“He what?” Garrus smacked a hand against the main panel in surprise. “You should have brought me, Shepard.” 

And how distracted was he that he didn’t sense the hostility lingering? 

“Seriously…”

“Maybe.” She shrugged, unaffected by his frustrated subtone, swinging her legs back and forth. “I’m thinking he can come with us to find Tali, that’ll get the battle hunger out of his system.”

Garrus groaned. “You want me to co-parent a bloodthirsty kid?”

She smirked. “Like you never wanted to be a krogan dad. What was that about maternal instinct? Maybe it’ll attract some krogan women-”

“Spirits! Get out, Mom!” he shouted, throwing a hand up.

Shepard laughed, her voice echoing against the ceiling as she hopped down from the not-a-seat station, surprising him when she departed. “Better be ready at thirty, Dad.”

The doors closed behind her, leaving Garrus to place two hands on the railing and stare at red nothing, shaking his daydreams away. 

_That’s the past now,_ unscarred Garrus said to him.

“I know that,” he grumbled, stomach empty as he stood up straight and exhaled, finally able to calm himself. “I’ll let it go.”

Sensible Garrus didn’t argue back.

* * *

Far Rim

Garrus smacked a hand against his suit for the third time in a row. “I’m having _serious_ issues with my shields.” 

Turians loved warm weather but there was a difference between being cozy and cooked alive like a steamed prawn, damn Shepard for sending him that vid. The commander was in no better shape, helmet matted to the back of her neck by sweat, taking horribly deep breaths when they ran in the scorching sun.

“We’ll fight from the shade, but no hiding,” Grunt’s voice rippled through Garrus’s headphones, sounding clear and deep, unlike a krogan just born.

Garrus disregarded his insulting statement, deciding that as a cool dad he ought to have some compassion for the child from hell Shepard had released into the world. 

_I should’ve been the Mom…_ he grumbled to himself. _Then I could beat his disrespectful little ass-_

“C-c-come on,” Shepard, krogan mom, said through a dry heave. “We’re h-halfway there.”

Garrus nodded, remembering that the radiation of the planet took the hardest toll on her. It made bringing Grunt and himself the best idea compared to other members of the crew. Still, he hadn’t expected a blazing sun that could burn right through his shields. Palaven seemed a paradise in comparison.

“Our ancestors walked these halls with heads uncovered. I wish my friends could see it. I wish Shepard were here…”

~*~

“Garrus.”

“Yeah, Tali?”

“You’re still staring.”

“Sorry, Tali.” Garrus snapped his head forward, watching her from the corner of his eye.

There wasn’t a bruise or scratch on her quarian suit, even with the three of them nearly torn to shreds trying to find her bunkered up on the geth-ridden planet. Thank the spirits they arrived on time.

“You don’t have to keep saying my name, also.”

“I’ll stop, Tali.” He cleared his throat. “My bad, not-Tali.”

“You are still a von.”

“I hope that means stylish.”

“Not even close.” 

Shepard smirked to herself, walking a few steps ahead of them down the bridge, throat dry. “We’re just glad to have you back, Tal.”

Grunt simply grunted behind them, not bothering to hide by his expression that he wondered what was so great about the quarian they’d torn through countless synthetics to find. Shepard pivoted her head back to the CIC, surprised to see Jack and Kelly speaking, though it looked like more of a discourse on Jack’s part.

“Oh, she’s right there!” Kelly said in a voice loud enough for Shepard to hear. She apologized with her eyes as Shepard drew closer to the hostile biotic ready to chomp apart their sweet ginger.

“Jack,” Shepard said as she turned on her.

“Look at this,” Jack snatched a datapad from Kelly’s hand, prompting her to raise a brow. 

Shepard accepted it, staring at the orange screen. _This… oh shit._ Guilt tugged at her. With so much krogan-ing, she’d forgotten the conversation she and Jack had about her twisted upbringing.

“The facility, it’s near here,” Shepard muttered, scrolling over the pad.

“A literal hour, Shepard,” Jack hissed with wild eyes when she looked up. “I won’t get this chance again.”

“Are you sure it’s right?” 

Jack exhaled hard, her arms glowing a dull blue to Garrus’s eyes as he stood a foot behind Shepard, unable to make out the data. The fringeless tattooed biotic might burst any second, it could get messy.

 _“Joker,”_ Shepard said in a sharp voice. 

**“Ma’am,”** his voice commed from Kelly’s station.

“Jack has some coordinates. Follow them, we’re taking a detour.”

**“Affirmative.”**

Jack’s eyes grew wide staring down at Shepard who crossed her arms. Her skin returned to as normal color as it could for a human covered in art, calming her biotics. She might not have expected to hear yes.

“Get ready.”

“Yeah, alright.” Jack spun on her heel, swaggering to the elevator, taking her tense energy with her. 

Kelly almost sighed until the doors opened and out stepped Miranda, face in a scowl as she and Jack passed each other by.

Miranda met Shepard with similar intensity, although more composed. Shepard sighed and handed her the datapad, prepared to deal with a second problem. There was no conversation this time, which felt odd to Garrus. The XO was so intelligent that she’d gathered the facts in a few seconds. “This Cerberus facility, I will see it for myself.”

“Get ready,” Shepard said again.

“I already am.” Miranda’s hair flipped over her shoulder as she turned and strutted to the armory, every eye on her.

Kelly finally exhaled when the doors closed. “Sorry about that-”

Shepard waved a hand, voice dried up. “I just need fucking water.”

~*~

“Garrus,” Tali’s voice seemed to ring even from beside him. He shifted from his position, turning his music down in one ear.

“Hey, are you settled in?” he asked.

“I travel light, naturally.” Quarians had everything they needed in their suits. Anything else required a simple suitcase. She stood beside him, a question lying in the tint of her mask as he fiddled over system schematics. 

“You alright?” 

Tali took a breath. “Can I ask you how the crew has treated you? Will I have to wait for them to adjust all over again like the first Normandy?” There was a tone of displeasure in her voice, which he didn’t blame her for. 

It took him a moment to think of his response. Of all species in the galaxy, humans were the newest and took _time_ to adjust to anything, “foreign,” even though their many shades made asari look like a box of blueberries.

“Hmm. Cerberus personnel didn’t blink when I first walked around. I think killing a reaper has some respect attached to it.” He chuckled and placed a hand on his hip. “Besides, Shepard trusts us. Who would go against a revived woman?”

She took in the information, not giggling as he hoped for, seeming to think about it seriously. Then her voice lowered as if she were asking something taboo. “And… Shepard, how is she?”

He deciphered the real question by her tone. _Who is she? Is she ‘she’?_

“Honestly,” Garrus said, narrowing into her glowing spheres. “A lot of her is the same. I think I’m the one that’s different.”

Her posture relaxed as she nodded, not asking what he meant. “That. I understand that completely.”

* * *

When Shepard returned from Jack’s mission, her back hurt. Or, maybe her neck, or her head. There was a level of existential pain that went into dealing with both Jack and Miranda at the same time. One on hand, she was a therapist for a girl just discovering her past was fucked _but sorta_ not that fucked, and on the other, she had to constantly remind a grown woman to have compassion for that fucked up girl who was now a difficult felon.

“There’s a lot going on,” a voice said behind Shepard as she made her way to the elevator. She sighed, turning around into the warm visage of Kelly. How could she even try to pass her without saying hello?

“Is it that obvious?”

Kelly nodded, a compassionate look on her face that made Shepard melt. “I heard some of it from EDI’s logs, but it couldn’t have been easy. You deserve a nap.”

Shepard chuckled, managing to smile wide but tiredly. “Shit, that is getting funnier." They traded brief niceties and then the elevator door opened, a crewmember exiting it.

“Later, Chambers.”

The yeoman seemed like she wanted to say something else, but smiled and waved instead. A smirk crept on Shepard’s face after the doors to the elevator closed. 

She took the lift to the crew deck and shuffled past the few soldiers at a quick enough pace that she could say hello without being pestered. That much had stuck from the first Normandy.

The doors to the battery opened for her.

~*~

“T-tali, that’s a personal action.”

“You should have told me that!”

Shepard raised a brow, staring at Garrus with a hand over his armored stomach defensively while Tali raised an open palm.

“Uh…”

They turned toward her, an awkward air about them.

“Am I interrupting-”

“No!” Garrus huffed, rotating away toward the console. “But for future reference, flirty behavior is harassment by Cerberus policy.”

Tali’s face turned red--trust Shepard, she could tell. “I didn’t know! It was just an accident. Keelah, I’ve hit you on the stomach before! I thought it was friendly...”

Shepard rolled her eyes at the smug look on Garrus’s face, trust her, she knew it was there even from the back of his head. “He’s messing with you, Tal.”

At the same moment, laughter erupted from Garrus and Tali squealed out in horror, hitting him on the armor with balled hands. Shepard sighed and smiled, shaking her head. Some things didn’t change after two years.

“You bosh’tet!” 

Garrus stifled his laugh and then they stood watching the commander with her signature stance, arms crossed, and leaned into one hip.

“Hey,” she said, looking over the two of them, “What do you say we-”

Tali rushed her in a hug, squeezing her shoulders tight. “Welcome back!”

Shepard grinned, struggling in the tight grip. “Th-thanks.”

“How’d the mission go with those two? Couldn’t have been easy.” Garrus leaned against the railing.

“As well as it could go.” She left it at that, accepting her fate to be crushed to death by Tali’s love. “I was saying we should catch up like old times.”

Tali paused her hold, face mask pressed against Shepard’s head. “You mean with drinking?” Her ‘r’s rolled in Shepard’s ear as she smiled.

“Damn it,” Garrus hit a hand on the rail. “I had meant to get a few bottles requisitioned, but-”

Shepard gaped. “We can requisition alcohol on a Cerberus vessel!?” 

He laughed. “You can do whatever you like when you've taken out a reaper before. Remember?”

She chuckled with him. _We sure did fuck up that reaper…_ Then she sighed, shaking her head. _At the cost of all those lives._

Garrus took a step forward, watching her expression, almost reaching a talon out.

An electronic giggle cut in, and he looked at Tali. “Well~” Her face had to be smug under that mask as she let go of Shepard, keeping one arm around her shoulder. “Lucky for you two, I have the finest dextro liquor in my cargo, enough for...” her sentence stopped. 

_A team._

Garrus swallowed, an odd feeling as Shepard’s smile crept along her face. Something about letting her drink _dextro_ liquor brought up a horrible memory involving her, him, and the late lieutenant. 

“Uh…” He rubbed a hand over his throat. “Is you and dextro a good idea?”

Tali blinked. “Oh, right… human.”

“I’ve drank it before.” Shepard crossed her arms defiantly. “Once or twice.”

 _And choked me out,_ he didn’t say, crossing his arms back at her with similar intensity, squinting hard. "Shepard..."

“Keelah, I’ll grab it and meet you all.” Tali stood up straight and waved to them, exiting through the doors, leaving them in the silence alone.

Garrus and Shepard continued their stare down for another moment before she blinked.

“Dammit.” 

He relaxed his stance, and then paused, seeming to realize something. “Wait, were we having a staring contest?”

“Yeah… I planned to win.” She donned a shocked expression. “How do you know what a staring contest is?”

Garrus furrowed his brow plates, glancing at the space between them. “Just… it’s something that Weaver used to do.” 

Her head tilted. “Weaver?” 

_Crap._ “A member of my team. It’s the past, anyway. Omega, I mean-”

Shepard smiled, placing a hand on her hip. “We still have to talk about that.”

“I know.” He sighed.

For the moment, she decided to be patient, heading up to her quarters with him trailing behind, a moping posture about his shoulders. _Maybe things will be normal…_ with Tali aboard, and Garrus, and Chakwas… Joker. They were all familiarities that she needed.

~*~

Soft music played in the spacious quarters that belonged to Shepard. “For everyone else, the time has passed, but for me... it was like a week ago that we were on the old ship,” she said, staring at Tali’s mask.

The quarian was quiet at first. “Do you really not remember anything while you were... out of commission?” To put it lightly.

Shepard shook her head. “Vaguely. I remember a warmness of being somewhere familiar, like my home colony, but it felt more like a long rest. Everything else is blurry.”

Garrus stared at his drink in both hands, listening for the sounds of the ship, admitting to himself that he didn’t really want the details of her death.

Tali whooshed, breaking some tension. _“Pullu,_ you’re here now, Shepard, and thank goodness it was to save my ass.” 

“Hey, I helped.” Garrus nudged her. “Let’s not forget the master sniper.”

They chuckled and drank another round. The alcohol burned Shepard’s chest as she sank deeper into her leather chair. She’d pulled it up to the table in front of the L-couch where Garrus and Tali sat.

“You should really slow down,” Garrus didn’t say, though his eyes certainly did, holding his tall glass with a studying look.

Tali looked between them and laughed, tipsy in her singing voice. “You know, I keep thinking about that one time on the old Normandy when you drank dextro liquor. You really did almost kill Garrus, Shepard.”

 _“One_ time?” He scoffed. “One of many.”

Shepard smiled and drank another sip from her scotch glass, feeling the liquor settle into her stomach. It wasn’t made for humans, but neither was being killed by reapers. Hushing her thoughts, she folded one leg under the other to lean on the arm of the chair with her elbow. 

“Hmm. I couldn’t help it, imagine my shock being woken up by a turian, just _sooo_ handsome with his scary face armor.”

Tali choked on her straw and giggled.

Garrus rolled his eyes, leaning an arm against the back of the couch. “I’ll have you know, I’m quite the catch to turian _and_ krogan women.”

Shepard raised a brow and smirked, her and Tali sharing a look that he couldn’t decipher.

There was silence for a moment.

“Are you?” Shepard grinned.

“Am I what?”

“Come on, spill it!” Tali squealed, her voice echoing. “We don’t know what you were doing for two years! You were always talking about your scandals before, rememberrrrr?” the end of her words slurred.

Garrus gaped, face turning blue before he could conceal it, and then he coughed, shifting one leg over the other. That’s because half of it wasn’t true. 

Though, half of it was true. He smirked.

“I told you we’d discuss it eventually,” Shepard added, drinking more of the liquor that questionably wasn’t poisoning her. “I want to know what you were doing on Omega.”

In her white casuals, she looked harmless, but he knew better and rolled his eyes. “Why do you want to start with the scandalous stuff? I didn’t even get to the danger yet.”

Shepard raised a brow picking through the humor with ease. “What danger?”

His mouth shut. 

“And don’t say nothing.” She squinted, leaning forward.

This time, Tali groaned, gesturing wildly with a hand. “Shepard, Garrus! We are intoxicated! This is _not_ the time to be so morbid.”

Garrus opened his mouth to retorn, and then looked over her slumped posture in the quarian suit, watching her hiccup. It was hours ago, but… she had lost most of her team to the geth. _Right, I'm being stupid..._

Their mission to rescue her was a success at the cost of quarian lives. Even under that suit, Tali was trying to stay positive. He knew that she didn’t want to be alone when she bickered with him in the battery for over an hour, wanting to see everything he worked on. 

_None of us want to be alone…_ the reality sunk into his gut with the alcohol, dulling his senses. His glance shifted to Shepard who furrowed her brows at him, seeming sober for a moment as they met. 

“W-well,” he muttered, rubbing his head as Tali raised her head, a twinkle in her eye. “I guess there were a few flings. You know, nothing serious with vigilante stuff.”

Tali’s posture raised fully and she turned toward Garrus, shaking in her seat. “That’s just like Space Chronicle 2!” 

Shepard groaned. “Another flick I missed… great.”

Garrus smiled with his mandibles, feeling his mood raise, even as he didn’t want to talk about Omega, but also very much did. He wanted to share everything so badly, to let it out and not have it bury him alive, but he also felt possessive over it, and ashamed.

“There was a turian I picked up at a bar once…” 

Thus, once again, he made up a story. No, he mixed a story. Some parts true, other parts glorified. Anything to keep the room upbeat.

“She had this tan skin and crest marks, real cute in the fringe.” 

They were his friends. Why did he have to lie?

“Must have been right after I fought a whole vorcha pack.”

~*~

“So, what about that quarian guy?” Shepard asked, sitting between Garrus and Tali on the couch. Tali leaned on her shoulder, having had - how many drinks? - she’d lost count. 

“Quarian?”

“Reegar-something.”

Tali squealed, sitting upright and then covering her mask with two hands to hide her blush. “R-reegar!? What about him! Don’t look at me like that!”

Garrus laughed. “Wooow, that says it all.”

Shepard snickered, elbowing Tali. “I like him. He’s got a good sense of duty, and he's a marine.”

“A marine, like he said for the fourth time,” Garrus added.

They both laughed.

“Ughhh, just drop it.” Tali groaned, hands still over her mask, and then she lowered them, staring at the coffee table in front of the couch. “...but, he is quite a good person, thank you for saving him…” her voice cracked. “And me…” 

She turned to Shepard and hugged her, this time comfortably rather than bone-crushing. 

“Anytime, you idiots,” Shepard whispered next to her ear. “As if I wouldn’t save my original crew.”

There was a soft hic, and then the sound of crying as Tali hugged her tighter, bumping her forehead with her mask. Garrus looked at them and reached over to pat a hand on Tali’s shoulder.

“Shepard,” she said through tears. “I missed you so much! The Normandy was such a nice ship! Such a great drive core! Best in the galaxy!”

Garrus rolled his eyes but smiled, watching Shepard hold her crying form. _Do you miss us or the high-tech upgrades?_

A new sound entered his ears, making him pause. “S-shepard?”

The sniffles grew louder, Shepard’s face and ears reddening, which he marveled at, leaning closer to peer at her. 

“Are you-”

Her sob met him back. “I knoooow right!” There was a bottle between their thighs as Garrus craned his neck to see fully. The dextro liquor. 

“I- I couldn’t drink for two years!” the words slurred. “Fuck these reapers!”

Garrus blinked to himself, smile fading as he realized that no one would believe the situation he was in. He sat there, waiting for five more minutes until they finished crying, checking the time on his omni-tool in-between.

And then there was silence.

Shepard seemed to compose herself as she wiped her eyes and Tali still hugged her. “Let’s get you to bed,” she said quietly. "You had a long day."

Tali nodded, allowing Shepard to guide her to her feet, helped by Garrus when she stumbled. Together, they tucked her into the bed and watched her fall asleep immediately.

Shepard whooshed, standing next to Garrus with a hand on her hip before she followed him back to the couch, pouring two more glasses. They didn't discuss the past few moments.

“Do you think she misses them?” she asked, passing him the tallest glass.

Garrus started over at Tali, and then to Shepard’s tired disposition. She had to be just as exhausted after back-to-back trips. Had she rested?

“It’s not easy to lose your comrades,” he said quietly before swallowing down some of the drink. He outweighed either of them, but the alcohol had been working, slowing his thoughts and making the night easier to handle.

“Yeah, it’s not.” 

She sighed and folded her leg to lean against the couch and face him. He did the same, turning as best as he could in his blue suit.

“Do you miss him?” Garrus asked before his better brain could muzzle the words. “The lieutenant, I mean.” 

Shepard’s brows raised for a moment, and then she hummed, looking down at her glass. He finished his drink, pouring himself another in the ship's silence.

“I think I should,” she finally said, straightening her posture, “but sometimes I don’t feel like he’s gone.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s different from before, after Virmire.”

Garrus put down his glass, alcohol on his tongue, peering into her dark eyes. “It was like you couldn’t breathe, remember?” He couldn't ever forget that feeling.

She paused, eyes blinking at him. 

“Y-yeah…” Her chest felt tight. “I couldn’t, but this is different.”

“How so?”

A sigh met him, then a smile that left a bitter scent. “I’m not grieving him, Garrus, I’m grieving me.” Her breath grew unsteady as she stared into the glass and raised it. 

He extended his arm, placing gloved talons over her hand. She looked up and put down the drink halfway, eyes locked onto him. There was a feeling she couldn’t describe as the room moved around her.

“You’re alive.”

The words sank in and she nodded, face in a tight smile as her eyes glossed. Then she squeezed his hand, using her other arm to drink down the liquor, welcoming the burn.

Garrus moved closer on the couch, putting down his glass to place an arm around her shoulder. He didn’t know if the motion was disrespectful, or would cause some kind of intergalactic dispute. Those thoughts left him as she leaned her head into the crook of his arm, sharing that scent that was almost unbearable once. After Omega, he could understand it, and that comforted him. The feeling of being alive with little else left.

Her arm wrapped around herself as she lent her weight to him, the furthest hand rested on his thigh. He could smell vanilla from her hair, staring at the reflection of himself in the armor cabinet across the room.

Sensible Garrus locked eyes with him, and he sighed after a minute of silence.

“I have to tell you something.”

Shepard angled her head up. He didn’t meet her look.

“I didn’t just go to Omega to escape C-Sec, Shepard. I was looking for trouble. I went there to take justice into my own hands.”

To his surprise, she chuckled against him. “That much I figured.” She sat up and reached for a bottle of water, which he handed to her. “I wouldn’t have sat tight either when bastards were getting away shit free.”

“I know…” He sighed again. “I thought becoming a vigilante would redeem me somehow, but it’s only made me that much bigger of a sinner.”

She watched him sit forward and lean his elbows on his thighs, leaving her to fold her legs into the couch. "I didn't know you cared about that."

“I don't." He admitted. "The sins don't bother me. Evil is evil and should be taken out. I could never have accomplished so much and stay within C-Sec guidelines. I'm glad that I disrupted the filthy deals of major orgs, but…" His tone quieted, "I also made bad calls. When you're playing with fire, one mess-up is all it takes.”

"How bad of a call?" she asked.

"I got my whole squad killed.”

The room suddenly felt cold. _Shit._ Him being alone on that balcony made sense. The rectangle metal cases she'd seen in the basement... were they caskets? Holy fuck.

Water cooled her throat, and with a tight swallow she whispered, “Weaver?”

“Dead.” Garrus met her wide expression. “A serious human, but liked to play these Earth games for something called bragging points. I never quite understood it…”

Shepard didn't know what to stare at, trying to settle on his words. “What did your squad do? I mean, before-"

Garrus stared at his restless talons. “We fought back against the thugs killing the helpless. We took out slavers, drug dealers, anyone disturbing the galactic peace.” His eyes flitted over Tali rolling over in her sleep. “I didn’t accept payment from common people, but the thugs and slavers had their bad days coming.”

“What did you do with the money, then? There had to be safes for the taking with merc groups dead.”

Garrus paused, struggling. “We- we weren’t out to get rich, Shepard.”

“I didn’t mean-” She reached a hand toward his back, and then put it on her lap instead, awkwardly.

Raising his voice, then adjusting it once Tali stirred, he said quietly, “I wanted to make those _bastards_ thought twice before murdering an innocent on the streets. I wanted to fight back, and so did the people who joined me..." He glanced over his shoulder, fighting to convey months of emotion, and then he shook his head, gentler this time. “I wanted to honor what we were, what... you were, without the red tape.”

Shepard placed her hand on his back, deciding to leave it there as he sighed and lowered his shoulders. It suddenly felt selfish to wish he and Tali were there when she'd woken up; they were fighting their own battles while she was sleeping.

“I’m listening, big guy.”

~*~

Garrus walked back to the battery, trying his hardest to keep in a straight line. That wasn’t the easiest to do after drinking with Shepard. He remembered finishing the bottle, but he felt tipsy while she seemed _calm._

“I said it.” He whooshed, leaning against the main station after the doors closed, locking it _._ Having a surprise conversation wouldn’t be ideal.

 _I thought she’d be angrier…_ he thought to no one, eyes wading tiredly over the schematics of the weapons system. _...but I didn’t get to say everything._

 _No,_ Sensible Garrus stared at him, seeming disappointed. _You didn’t._

Garrus buried the guilt as he climbed over the railing and trailed to the back of the battery where there was a space for a cot, a few pillows, and his belongings. The XO had offered him a bunk to himself, but he turned it down, preferring to stay where the action was, and to avoid the issue of passing crewmembers often like on the old ship.

After unclasping his armor, he stood in his black suit, staring at his omni-tool. The orange light shined against his blue marks. Those were the marks that he’d gotten before he set out to military academy.

At the time, he was so nervous when the shaman had poured a tingling liquid on his face, gently stripping a layer of his plates to paint on his colony's shade. And then she had laid his skin back into place and wrapped it in a linen cloth to heal. When he removed the bandage and looked in the mirror next to his father days later, their faces almost looked the same.

_“Sorry, it’s hard to talk about… how they died.”_

_“It’s okay, let’s finish later.” Shepard stood up, helping him clean the glasses and drinks, seeming barely as tipsy as he. Thinking, she paused and looked at him. “You should contact your family, though.”_

_He couldn’t respond._

_“At least to tell them you’re okay.”_

Garrus stared at his line, then his encrypted contact list, taunting, threatening to dial and tell all of his secrets- “It’s only right.” He shook the thoughts, sitting down on the cot and scrolling until he saw his father’s name.

_Sigh._

“Can I even block lines this far?” What cluster were they in again?

An automated voice made him flinch.

**“Vakarian, if you’d like to make a call, the Normandy’s network is secured to ensure it isn’t traceable.”**

He swore quietly to himself, admitting that he’d had too many drinks to not risk being sloppy. Then he nodded, only after rolling his eyes. “That’s fine, EDI, but I’d prefer there be no recordings.”

There was a pause. **“Very well.”**

EDI must have checked with the XO.

Garrus made the note to turn off his comms, and then he scooted back on the cot until he was pressed against the wall. He dialed the line, closing his eyes in the darkness. 

_Ring._

_I don’t even know if he’s awake._

_Ring._

_He’s busy, he won’t pick up._

_Ring-_

“Hello?”

Garrus snapped his eyes open, staring at the voice line. There was a sigh, and then an irritated tone.

“Who is this?”

“D-dad,” he stuttered out, cursing himself for shaking.

Silence met him at first. “Garrus.”

Castis didn’t ask him where he was even though Garrus waited for it, prepared to make some kind of excuse. His head started to hurt. Was either of them going to say anything?

“I don’t hear any target practice.”

Garrus swallowed, relieved. “No targets, all clear. The odds... had suddenly got better, and I eliminated them- the targets.” _Spirits, it's not coming out right._

“Are you drinking?”

“I’m… yeah, I was.” Garrus felt his face heat blue, remembering that he was calling someone he should respect out of the blue while tipsy. “I’m still sorry-” 

“You’d better be. These couple days have been longer than weeks, not hearing anything, meanwhile, you’re throwing a few back. This is ridiculous.” 

Garrus could almost see him shake his head in disbelief, wearing that orange and blue bright armor.

“I didn’t know what to tell your sister.”

He swallowed a lump in his neck. “She always knows things.”

“Just like your mother in that way.” Castis released a breath. “Thankfully, that’s all she got from her. You picked up the defiance and ran with it, seriously, son...”

Garrus couldn’t help but smile, pulling his sheets closer to keep warm. His body felt so tired as he placed a pillow behind his head and slumped against it.

“Garrus?”

“I’ll tell Solana I’m alright.”

“I don’t suppose it’s worth asking if you’re safe. Is it?”

To his own surprise, Garrus laughed, the image of Shepard's red shaved head in his mind. “Believe it or not, I’m with people who won’t let me die no matter what.”

Castis hummed on the line. “I see. I'll take your word for that. I’ve got to go.”

“Oh,” Garrus mumbled, "Right."

“Was there anything else?”

He shook his head, even though his dad couldn’t see him. “No, sir.”

The line cut and Garrus laid in his lumpy cot-nest, hugging his knees as best as he could. Maybe he had wanted to hear his voice more, or maybe even talking to his dad without being scolded was enough. Garrus closed his omni-tool and sank into the pillows, letting his mind drift free into sleep. That would make the first night on the ship that he'd finally be able to do so.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The choking is a reference to Ch 4 from FLF 1. I still think that chapter was so fun to read.


	9. Krogan Parenting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grunt throws a tantrum and Garrus receives news.

“Shepard!”

She stood on a patch of sand, leaned up as though to kiss someone. When she opened her eyes, it was the lieutenant in his dark gray armor, smiling stupidly as their faces detached. _Right._ One quick kiss and then the mission. They had to stop the krogan facility on Virmire.

“Shepard!”

“Someone’s calling,” he said with a smile as she removed her hand from his chest, standing on the sandy coast fully. 

“They can wait, we have to end this bastard, Saren.”

The lieutenant looked confused, tilting his head of hair and frowning with those deep brown eyes. “He’s right there, he’s calling.” And then he smiled as she turned around slowly, swallowing her emotions as her skin grew cold.

Saren met her shocked glare, standing feet from her in the sand. “Shepard,” he said in a closer voice this time. “I was looking for you.”

“B-bastard!” She snatched her gun, fingers grasping at air. There was a grin over her shoulder as the lieutenant’s hands snapped her in place. “Kaidan, what-”

“Shepard,” Saren said again, walking toward her. She flinched with every step and closed her eyes as he passed them by. 

“I-I’m right here, asshole.”

“No, not you,” Kaidan whispered, lips brushing against her ear. “You’re dead.”

Saren kneeled to the ground, holding out his metallic, sharp talons as a child ran toward him. “Saren!” she sang out, head of curly strawberry hair bouncing in the wind and brown skin kissed by the sun. It was _she,_ running along the sand to a villain.

Shepard watched herself fall down sloppily, looking in horror as there were laughs behind the girl. A man wearing bermuda shorts and sandals helped her up, adjusting his square glasses once she dusted off her knees. 

“Come on, dear, he’s waiting for you.”

“Dad?” Shepard lost her breath, struggling to move forward in the tight grip.

“Go on, sweetheart, Saren’s calling.”

“Shepard,” Saren called out again, laughing in his evil voice as she got up and smiled. “Come on, the _reapers_ are waiting.”

“Get away from him!” Shepard screamed.

There was a collector pod next to Saren, which he invited her into with a smile. 

The hands that held Shepard tightly were now talons. A metallic voice asked, “It’s unsettling, isn’t it?”

She froze, peering over her shoulder at Garrus’s grave expression. 

“All these empty buildings and no gun powder.”

“N-no, they’re right there-” She turned back and they were standing on the balcony of Archangel’s hideout on Omega, staring at closed pods in place of furniture. Shepard shook out of his hold and sprinted to one, ripping it open.

“Where am I!?” she shouted. “Where’s Saren?!”

Garrus chuckled, the sound echoing through her ears. 

“You’re right there. So is Saren. You’re, as you humans say, one in the same.”

She turned her head around, struggling to find his eyes… until they settled on her. Them.

Calm washed over as she no longer moved, laying in the collector pod with silver talons wrapped around her waist. Her talons.

~*~

**“Assuming direct control of the Normandy.”**

Shepard shouted, fighting her sheets until she almost rolled off the bed, consciousness hitting her head bricks on pavement.

“E-EDI?” She struggled to breathe, heart-pounding up to her ears. “What the hell?”

 **“Thank god,”** Joker’s commed over the speaker. **“I knew that one would work.”**

Shaking her nightmare, she sat up and peered around the space. It was normal, as normal as it could be, and Tali had gone but there was a _sleep-well_ note left on the bedside stand.

“What time is it?” she asked.

 **“It is 0600 hours, Shepard. You have been sleeping for five hours.”** _Fuck, that’s it?_ She didn’t feel rested at all and a migraine was starting.

“What the fuck do you guys need?”

Joker answered. **“We’ve been trying to wake you up, Commander. Chambers says Grunt is losing it.”**

Shepard nearly spit out her water, closing the bottle and shoving it onto her nightstand. 

“Sh-shit. Shit.” Pushing off the bed, she stumbled to the weapon’s locker. “Like, ‘killing people’ losing it?”

**“You'll have to ask her. From EDI’s cameras, he's just pacing, for now, looking real pissed off, don’t say I didn’t tell you so...”**

After opening the locker and snapping on her day suit, she froze, almost shaking. “EDI.”

**“Commander Shepard.”**

“Why don’t I feel hungover?”

~*~

When she made it to the engineering deck, she had almost forgotten where Port Cargo was in her tired state. Grabbing the coffee of someone she passed helped to wake her up, and her blood was pumping from anxiousness. 

_Ugh, disgusting._

A shaved head leaned over the railing, nearly scaring her, but she hid it. “Jack…” she muttered.

“You gonna put him down?”

Shepard choked on her coffee. “N-no, I don’t know.”

“Darn.” Jack tisked. “Well, if he stays, it’s interesting having more wild cards around.”

The biotic looked like she had something on her mind, but said nothing else, disappearing into the shadow of the ship’s belly where she slept.

“EDI.”

**“Commander.”**

“Remind me to thank whoever I just robbed.” The door in front of her was red. “And can you let me in?”

EDI affirmed her, and then the cargo door opened, the bright light making her wince before she locked eyes with the pacing krogan, his nearly two-foot gain on her growing apparent as she approached. _Deja vu,_ another krogan to handle.

Grunt growled under his breath, hands twitching over the air, unarmed.

“What’s going on,” she said in a firm voice, “Chambers said you’re tearing shit up.”

With a huff, he turned on her, but it felt different than hostility. Dammit, she didn’t have the neurological senses of other species, but she knew frustration from a mile away. _But why?_

“Something is…” he hesitated, staring around the room like a caged animal, deciding on his words, _“wrong, Shepard.”_

She grasped her hands on her hips.

“I feel tense, it’s all wrong.”

“Trigger-happy? There will be plenty of time for that, trust.”

“No!” he growled. “Like I need to _kill_ something with my own hands. It’s not enough.”

Grunt shook as he walked to the cargo bay window, prompting her to swallow, stiffening her own legs. _Just in case_ she had to fight.

“Is that different than usual?” she kept calm.

 _“It’s more than usual!”_ his voice broke through the air, raising an octave before he slammed his head plate into the glass, creating a crack big enough to spread. That was military-grade plexiglass, 28th generation, strong as steel, mind you.

Shepard forced her body not to pull out her gun. _Calm. He’s confused._ She stood with pristine posture and a tight face as Grunt turned around, staring at her with eyes that she’d associate more with a scared adolescent than a super soldier.

“Why did I do that?” he asked, approaching her with a desperate tone. “What’s wrong with me?”

“I’m not sure.” With a sigh, she released her tension, taking a step forward with open palms. “I’m listening, we’ll figure it out.”

~*~

Joker chewed on a sour gummy, humming to himself as smooth jazz played in his ears, a batarian band from the Attican Traverse. A figure moved in the reflection, forcing him to swallow and turn around slowly. It wasn’t the krogan, coming to end his life after taking out each deck on his way up. Thank god.

“Hey, Joker?” Shepard sighed, looking exhausted in her light armor. “How long would it take to get to Tuchanka?”

“Uh..” He placed down his bag of candy and leaned forward, typing in coordinates with confused fingers. “A few hours, I'll set a course now, but can I ask why we're going there? Isn't one feral krogan enough?” 

Shepard groaned. “That’s what you’d think, right?”

Joker stared at her slumped silhouette with lost eyes as she left. _Are we returning him, then?_ That might be for the best.

Shepard straightened out her posture as she wandered the CIC of the ship, having the self-dignity to at least _look_ like the captain. That was easier than it seemed with barely any hair to brush and one layer of smoothing EE cream to cover the glowing marks. 

In a week, she’d been unable to meet all of the crew and didn’t want to, but no one had voiced any concerns yet. Miranda probably told them she was a bitch and not to bother.

“Hello, commander,” the brunette said calmly, rising from her seat as Shepard entered the XO’s quarters and office.

“Am I intruding?”

“Not at all.”

“Good,” she sighed out, trailing to a chair to sit down. Her mouth still tasted like the bad coffee she’d stolen, and the more she thought about it, she couldn’t remember who's it was. “I want to go over a plan, I need to stop by Tuchanka with a team.”

Miranda looked surprised, lowering into her seat with folded hands. 

Shepard was glad that she didn’t immediately frown upon it, but she could see by the twitches in her brows that she was already piecing together bits of information, drawing on the reason why they needed to go and approving the plan, or not. 

“I understand. Thank you for informing me.”

“Didnt want to blindside you again like the Jack thing.”

Miranda looked surprised, then smiled, sounding genuine. “I appreciate that.”

~*~

Shepard wandered the ship for an hour after taking a shower. EDI told her that the crewmember whose coffee she confiscated was Kenneth Donnelly. When she met him in engineering, he worked with a red-haired woman named Gabby. They didn’t bicker about the drink at all, seeming more excited that she would take the time to see them.

“Of course she’s visiting, Shepard is an amazing person,” Tali said with a confident tone from her station. 

Shepard looked at her and smiled, glad that she was in a better mood as she drew closer to the quarian. “Thanks, Tal. Are you all settled in? You left first.”

Tali laughed, a tint to her mask. “Yes, I thought I’d let you sleep. Garrus didn’t stay, though, there was definitely room for him on the couch.”

Shepard couldn’t help but laugh. “Not with that suit there wasn’t. How much does he even weigh?”

“I don’t think his style of justice can be measured by weight.” Tali snorted, making Shepard chuckle. “I’ve never seen him without his armor.”

“Ha, speak for yourself. I’m glad one of us slept, at least. I could barely get in a-” she paused, earning a head-tilt from Tali. “-dream, uh, I’m gonna visit the doc.”

Tali’s eyes drew together. “A-are you okay? The cook makes a great hangover drink even for dextro like me. You don’t look poisoned… right?”

Shepard smiled, shaking her head. “No, yeah. It’s just a check-up. Chakwas gets cranky when I’m late.”

The quarian accepted the fib without a second thought. “I will see you later then, Shepard! I want to go generate a log of the system’s drive core, then the FTL drive, and hopefully our sublight acceleration will…”

Shepard tuned out the rest, slipping through the doors of engineering and heading to the crew deck, an odd feeling in her stomach.

~*~

“Doc!” 

The grey-haired woman glanced over her shoulder as Shepard burst through the door.

Shepard paused, seeing Garrus also watch her with curious eyes, sitting on the medical bed shirtless, well, as much as a turian could be.

Chakwas turned back around and continued attending to something at his arm. “I heard you were drinking with Garrus. Breathe.” He complied, taking a deep breath while she stared at her scanner. 

“Yeah…” Shepard stood awkwardly in front of the door. “About that… EDI said something to me after I woke up.” 

“Very good, hold that.” Chakwas moved away from the bed. “Your vitals are normalizing compared to your first visit.”

Garrus hummed, looking over Shepard’s restless pace as the doctor crossed the room to place her datapad down. 

“What did EDI say?” His voice made her flinch, which didn’t go unnoticed, prompting him to twitch a brow plate.

“Shepard?” Chakwas asked, brows raised.

Shepard swallowed, straightening her posture. “W-well, she said that I wasn’t hungover, something about me not being _able_ to get drunk?”

Chakwas looked shocked. “That’s your concern?”

“...yes?”

“You should be more concerned about the potential negative effects that alcohol could have on your _new_ body, commander.” Chakwas shook her head and sighed. “Honestly…”

Shepard crossed her arms, embarrassed. 

“I’ll have to look into it with the professor, he may know something that I don’t. I’ll also need a sample of the alcohol you drank.”

“Ah-” _What was it again?_

“I can get a bottle,” Garrus said as the doctor returned to him and took the switch he held, slowing his IV drip to a stop. 

“Heavens...” Chakwas peered from one of them back to the other. “Not again.”

“It was a dextro brand,” he added in a mumble, realizing how bad that sounded.

Chakwas shook her silver head. “You two try me and try me, and I let you.” A sigh. “At least let an old woman settle in first.”

“Sorry, doc…” The commander pouted. “But _please_ figure it out?”

Garrus felt a prick and then he was free of wires and scanners as Shepard watched his relieved face. On the old Normandy, it was rare that she would find him outside of his heavy armor. Even after being hit by a missile, she practically had to rip it off so that he would sleep.

_Chakwas sat at her desk, one leg crossed. “Commander, something seems to be bothering Garrus. I doubt he will bring it up to me. Maybe you can pull it out of him.”_

_“I don’t know, doc… he still isn’t telling me everything from Omega, but we only just got him,” muttered Shepard._

_The older woman frowned. “I know, but he was in poor shape when he came into surgery Shepard, not only from the obvious. His vitals were very depleted. From the report, he must have been on that balcony longer than a day.”_

_She balled her fists. “That makes sense... I’ll try to help him.”_

“Hey, rex,” Shepard said, meeting his gaze.

Garrus huffed. “Always with the compliments, you.”

Chakwas looked between them and smiled, walking to a bed across from him to set up the scanner for her.

A smile crept across Shepard’s face, staring at him and his _turian armor,_ which she learned wasn’t bulletproof after he’d been poisoned by rachni. Kaidan had looked so excited and said the plating was cool.

“What’s with that look?” Garrus raised a brow. “It’s just a shirtless turian, Shepard. I looked up Cerberus protocol, and ogling _does_ count as harassment, you know.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut up. It’s just- I remember Kaidan used to always pass through here. He’d go to talk to-”

“Liara,” Chakwas said with a thoughtful look. “She was quite a scholar. What different times those were.”

Garrus nodded in agreement, pulling his jumpsuit up to his chest to wiggle in one arm, glaring at Shepard as she coughed back a laugh into a hand.

“On a different note,” Chakwas said in her doctor's voice, making Shepard swallow and take a step inside the room fully. “It has come to my attention that you haven’t been eating properly, Commander.”

_Shit._

Garrus raised a brow, pausing his get-dressed dance as she stiffened.

“Those cybernetics are handy but do not depend on them. That will take a toll, and we do not know how long parts of you will last.” The words were cold and needed. “I will return, someone is having an emergency, and I’d like to make sure it isn’t contagious. That scanner is set up, EDI can guide-”

Chakwas was already out the door, shuffling past the mess table toward the dorm hallway. There was no further commotion as the doors closed, leaving him, her, and the sound of the ship humming.

Garrus furrowed his brow, thinking on the old days. “Is something bothering you?”

She blinked.

“You don’t eat when you’re upset, right?”

Shepard took a step closer, wiping the surprise off her face that he’d remember that. “I’m fine, not really into cafeteria grub.”

He hummed. “I know you better than that.”

**“Commander, the scanner is prepared.”**

“Guess I’m not ready to talk about some things, too, Garrus.” She smiled, walking over to the bed across from him as he pulled his suit over his shoulders.

“Well, I still managed to try,” he said while she unsnapped her light armor, having kept it on out of caution with Grunt still in a funk. “I-I didn’t mean it that way.”

She knew that, and placed her last piece on the floor, laying on top of the soft bed, eyes focused on the white ceiling.

“Shepard, I just ask because-”

**“Commencing scan.”**

Garrus watched her close her eyes as the metal piece roamed over her feet and ankles, rising up to her legs. _Do I have the right to ask?_ He was real with her the night prior, but maybe eighty percent, not one hundred. 

“Because?” she asked.

 _I have to keep trying._ “I don’t want to regret not asking you how you are-”

**“Scan 50 percent complete-”**

“Fucking spirits, EDI!”

“A little quieter, EDI?” Shepard asked sharply, fists tightened as she lay in the bed, waiting for the scan to complete its second run. “What would you regret, Garrus?”

 _Sigh._ He felt stupid. “When I was doing my... good deeds, Shepard. I thought about what I would have said to you… I should have asked about where you grew up, and if you were okay after Virmire.”

“Were _you_ okay?” 

“Not really, no.” 

“Then I should have asked you, too.” 

The scanner beeped, and she opened her eyes, sitting up fully to stare at him, a soft expression on her face. 

“I said it doesn’t feel like he’s died, but that doesn’t mean I don’t blame myself. For me, it’s been a few months since I put him there at that bomb, not years.”

Garrus rotated his body to face her, easier with only a slim bodysuit. “I blame myself, too, Shepard, for what happened on Omega. I think what if I hadn’t left, what if I could have warned my team, so many what-ifs…”

A thought popped into her head from checking her inbox that morning. “Did I forward you that-”

“Email, from Nalah Butler, yes.” Garrus exhaled. The email that told him in the most polite way not to kill himself over her husband’s death. “Even if she doesn’t blame me, I blame me. I’m not trying to start a pity party, ugh.” He threw up a hand. “I’m just saying I understand how you feel. I’m your battery turian, remember? You don’t need to let anything deplete you.” _I’m bad at this shit._

Shepard turned to her side, placing her legs over the side of the bed so that he wouldn’t see the gloss in her eyes. 

Garrus waited for her to breathe, nod, then speak. She started, “I really appreciate that, you’re the sweetest prehistoric goddamn-”

“Oh, _shut_ up!” He hated himself for laughing out awkwardly. “Spirits, you take a damn good moment and you-”

She laughed with him, voice strained to his ears, sounding more like it hurt. “I hear you, okay?” 

Garrus nodded.

“Let’s stop blaming ourselves for a little bit.” She stood up from the bed and exhaled. “At least until we make it out of Tuchanka alive.”

Garrus didn’t finish zipping up to his neck before he gaped. “Tuchanka? For what?”

“Ugh… I swear when I tell you what this kid is doing…”

She quickly relayed their short talk in Port Cargo, not skimming over any details.

“They grow up bloodthirsty so fast…” He crossed his arms, shaking his head.

“Mhm. EDI says the planet is radioactive, dry land. That’ll be just like Palaven, so…” Her hands motioned.

“You don’t have to convince me. I’ll co-parent, Shepard.”

“Good.” She smiled. “Plus, we land in like…” 

**“Approximately 2 hours.”**

Her eyes rolled. “Thanks, EDI.”

**“You’re welcome.”**

“EDI, that was sarcasm.

**“I am aware, Shepard.”**

The comm cut, denoted by static in their ears.

Garrus rose from the bed with a smug look. “She’s aware, Shepard.”

“Ignore it.” He chucked as she groaned, placing a hand on one hip. “Can I ask you to do something, and you not complain about it?”

“Depends on the thing, but sure.” He checked his omni-tool and then looked at her eyes boring into him. “I won’t be fried like a prawn, though, never.”

“It’s not that…” she said quietly, reaching a hand over to dim the glass of the med lab, staring into nothing as his look grew more serious.

“What is it?”

“It’s stupid… can you stand behind me?”

Garrus blinked, trying to take in some scent of emotion. He took a step toward her, and then another until he was a meter behind her, looking over her head. Was he supposed to be seeing something in particular?

“Hands at my shoulders.”

He complied, raising his hands to her shoulder while also aware that he wasn’t wearing his gloves, so his talons might feel sharp. If someone walked in, would it seem like he was murdering her?

“A little tighter.”

She couldn’t see his incredulous look. “Um, Shepard. What are we doing?”

No response met him, just a sigh, and her shoulders lowering. Over her shirt, he could feel how fleshy yet muscular she was.

“I had a weird dream.”

“What kind of dream?” Garrus turned her body in his hands, careful of his claws, until she faced him with a pouting look, seeming more like a teenager in trouble than a bad woman. 

“The kind where you were there…” She cringed as his eyes stared harder, spitting out the words as fast as she could. “And you might have grabbed me and said I was like Saren… and then I was him, but I also got into a collector nest thing-”

“Shepard, are you kidding me!?” He released his talons, taking a step back from her. 

Guilt tugged at her as he shook his head in disbelief.

“Why would you want to relive that? I would never treat you like that. _Ever.”_

She stared down at the ground, and he moved closer, placing a hand under her chin, tilting her head up. They were silent as he tried to decipher the dark red in her eyes.

“You _do_ know that, right?”

A beat and she furrowed her brows, placing a hand over his wrist. Garrus sighed, releasing his hold awkwardly. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck then turned to the bed and reached for his black gloves, pulling them on tightly. 

Finally, she said, “I know you wouldn’t. I just don’t know what to make of it.”

What was ‘it’ supposed to be?

Garrus stared at his armor in a bin on the floor, then instead crossed the space to place a hand on her shoulder, padded by soft material this time. “Dreams are irrational, Shepard. That’s something my father always said.”

“You know…” Her eyes softened, seeing something that he couldn’t. “Mine, too.”

His mandibles shifted. That was something more they had in common, the advice of a parent that could translate beyond species. 

“Then you don’t have to worry about that kind of thing or ask me to do that. I’m no expert on psychology, but I’m sure you’re not an evil bastard who tried to end the world.”

Shepard’s face tinted to a pink shade, and she looked away. “Or a turian.”

Garrus smiled. “Well, who’s to say after you floored me in drinking. It’s kind of overpowered that you’d come back alcohol-proof.”

Her face reddened further, and she turned out of his grip, leaving him to watch her huff as he picked up his armor from the ground, finally snapping on pieces to don his usual look.

“The one thing I looked forward to was alcohol, Garrus.”

“The only thing?” 

_At least be glad I’m here._ He almost dropped his gauntlet as he realized his thought.

When she raised a brow, he just shrugged, shaking the embarrassed feeling at the back of his neck. 

“If anything, you’ll find a way around it,” he said.

~*~

Garrus shook his head, pacing back to the battery with a mug of coffee. It was generous of Tali to offer him some of her stock once he'd mentioned that the dextro rations were fairly tasteless on the ship. She instantly sympathized, but he failed to mention that human crew food wasn't any better, or so he'd overheard. Overall, everyone was eating for survival over pleasure, except Tali and him now.

Placing the mug down, he hummed and played a techno turian track, tapping his foot as the weapon schematics glowed over the station. _Could tune the backup gun,_ when EDI wasn't prying, of course. 

Garrus stared at nothing after a few moments of check-ups.

 _Does she really think she's as bad as that asshole was?_ Even she, a human, was a better turian than one who betrayed the entire galaxy. _Shepard..._ he sighed, mind lost in that confused look on her face.

**Beep.**

Garrus peered through his visor eye, seeing a call queued. Traceless. He freed his hands and ran a network scan before accepting it, heart picking up.

"Hi, ma'am, are you there?"

"Petanis, what's going on?"

The voice scoffed and probably shook its head in disbelief. "You're the one who insisted on these word keys and shit."

Garrus growled in his throat. "You found something."

An annoyed groan.

"Petanis!" 

"Ah- Spirits, give me a second." There were clicks and murmurs. "Yes, sir, I'll have that report in." Garrus waited patiently, until they said in a serious and excited tone, "I found your guy."

His eyes widened. What peace and calm he felt faded, raising a rage in him that he had buried by pretending that all was well with drinks and hugs, sarcasm, laughs.

"You there?"

_"Where?"_

More clicks, and then an, "Aha. Get this, your guy was picked up on Citadel scanners a few hours ago." Garrus cursed under his breath. "Relax... he hasn't left yet. I called in a favor with a pal at security. He'll be stopped if he tries to leave, a random substance sweep, you know the drill, but I can't hold him forever. Hope you're in the area."

"I'm not." Garrus leaned against the counter, scratching his talons slightly. "You can't tell where he is right now?"

Petanis sighed. "No, he hasn’t used ID again, but I don't imagine he'd come to C-Sec's door just to-" 

"Disappear," they both said at the same time, prompting Garrus to groan.

"Shit. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” the voice asked.

"See if he's had any contact with fade. I'm counting on you,” Garrus said.

"I'll figure it out. Over.”

The line cut and Garrus's visor went dark as he growled, pushing off of the counter to pace around the room, blood boiling in his veins. _I'm this close, this fucking close._

He looked up into his reflection, seeing only his own scarred face.

_I'll finish it this time._

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience. 
> 
> Edit; I have to delay next chapter


End file.
